UC-NRLF 


SB    EflO 


rt«M« 

I 


life 


IB  iiiij 


i 


...  , 

111 


i 


it 


:  ":!i 

ill! 


H 


lii 


';!'; 


11; 


;HJl! 


II  ipiisiiij 


mm 


GIFT   OF 
Prof.    John  S.    Tatlock 


TALES  AND  TRADITIONS 


HUNGARY 


THERESA   PDLSZKT. 


EBDFIELD, 

CLINTON     HALL,      NEW     YORK. 
1852. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852, 

BY  J.  S.  REDFIELD, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


HON.    GEORGE    BANCROFT. 


DEAR  SIR, 

I  venture  to  dedicate  these  TALES  AND  TRADITIONS  OF  HUNGARY 
to  the  grave  Historian  of  the  United  States,  though  they  may  be  too  trifling  for 
the  earnest  Statesman  who  now  performs  the  noble  task  of  recording  the  feats 
and  events  of  a  people  which,  a  new  Hercules,  already  in  its  cradle  strangled 
the  two  Serpents— Despotism  and  Intolerance. 

But  I  am  sure  your  sympathy  for  the  cause  of  Hungary,  and  the  kind  interest 
you  bestow  on  those  who  suffer  and  struggle  for  their  country,  will  excuse 
that  I  offer  you  this  volume. 

The  TALES  AND  TRADITIONS  OF  HUNGARY  were  published  in  London  last 
Spring.  They  met  with  a  success  far  beyond  my  expectations.  The  Review- 
ers, and  amongst  them  even  the  stern  men  of  the  Examiner  and  of  the  Edin- 
burgh Review,  passed  a  favorable  verdict  on  them,  and  therefore  I  feel  encou- 
raged to  have  them  republished  here  in  America.  I  had  added  a  new  Peasant 
Tale,  to  give  some  novel  interest  to  the  volume,  but  in  the  late  fire  in  Fulton 
Street  the  Manuscript,  as  well  as  the  printed  copies,  was  all  destroyed.  As 
I  did  not  keep  another  copy,  I  have  inserted  in  its  stead  The  Tradition  of  the 
Hungarian  Race ;  and  Mr.  REDFIELD  is  so  chivalrous  as  to  think  that  my  like- 
ness may  be  of  interest  to  my  friends. 

Believe  me, 
Dear  Sir, 

Yours  sincerely, 

THERESA  PULSZKY. 

Cincinnati,  Ftb.  16th,  1853, 


M300897 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION         «.....! 
THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER  .  •  .         11 

THE  CASTLE  OF  ZTPSEN        .  .  .  .  .29 

YANOSHIK,  THE  ROBBER       .  .  .  .  .62 

THE   FREE   SHOT          .  .  .  .  ...  65 

THE  GOLDEN  CROSS  OF  KOROSFO  .            .  .  .71 

THE  GUARDIANS       .            .  .            .  .  .79 

THE  LOVE  OF  THE  ANGELS  .  .            .  .  .85 

THE  MAID  AND  THE  GENII  .....        91 

ASHMODAI,  THE  LAME  DEMON  .            .  .  .99 

THE  NUN  OF  RAUSCHENBACH  .            .  .  .107 

THE  CLOISTER  OF  MANASTTR.  .            .  .  ,115 

PAN  TWARDOWSKY  .            .  .            .  .  .126 

THE  POOR  TARTAR  ......       148 

THE.  MAIDENS'  CASTLE         .  .            .  .  .151 

THE  HAIR  OF  THE  ORPHAN  GIRL  .            .  .      166 

THE  ROCKS  OF  LIPNIK         .  ...  .  •         .      186 

JACK,  THE  HORSE-DEALER    .  .            .  *  .      213 

KLINGSOHR  OF  HUNGARY     .  .            .  ,  .      223 

YANOSH,  THE  HERO.            .  .            .  242 

THE  HUNGARIAN  OUTLAWS  .  .            .  .  .      808 

THE  TRADITION  OF  THE  HUNGARIAN  RACE      .  .  .        829 


POPULAR  TALES 


TRADITIONS  OF  HUNGARY, 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE  poetical  genius  of  a  people  is  expressed 
in  its  traditions.  They  are  the  inartificial  tokens 
of  the  riches  or  the  poverty  of  its  imagination. 
But  the  unruly  play  of  the  imagination  is  not  the 
only  source  of  tradition.  If  we  retrace  its  course, 
we  get  to  the  wonderful  spring  of  primitive  ideas, 
where  feelings  and  thoughts,  phantasy  and  under- 
standing, are  not  yet  separated  from  one  another, 
and  where  the  first  commencements  of  poetry  and 


;  C2 «'  -r  V      <e .  c '  /INTRODUCTION. 

the  science  of  philosophy  and  mythology  coincide. 
As  we  daily  see  with  children,  so  nations  in  their 

childhood  inquire  the  cause  of  every  phenomenon, 

* 

and  Just  as  the  child  rests  satisfied  with  any 
answer,  without  examining  its  correctness — -just 
as  the  child  prefers  those  explanations  which 
present  an  image  to  thoseAvhich  inculcate  a 
principle — so  the  people  prefer  a  legend,  and 
little  care  to  investigate  the  laws  of  physical 
nature. 

The  analytical  understanding  develops  itself 
only  in  the  riper  age  of  man  and  nations ;  their 
childhood  is  governed  by  imagination. 

The  questions  discussed  in  our  times,  of 
astronomy  and  geology,  by  the  physical  sciences 
and  philosophy,  were  all  comprised  by  the  people 
of  antiquity  in  their  mythology,  in  which  they 
expressed  their  ideas  about  divine  and  human 
things,  the  laws  of  moral  and  of  physical  nature. 
Mythology  was  to  them  what  the  Koran  is  to 
the  Mohammedans, — the  book  of  science  and 
the  book  of  law ;  a  circumstance,  which  even  at 
*  later  periods  often  stopped  scientific  research. 
Herodotus  does  not  venture  to  unfold  the  whole 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

extent  of  his  knowledge,  fearing  to  hurt  the 
religious  feelings  of  his  countrymen ;  and  Anax- 
agoras,  Diagoras,  Socrates,  and  other  philoso- 
phers of  Greece,  felt  in  different  degrees  the 
tyrannical  jealousy  of  the  popular  creed.  The 
intuitive  surmise  of  poetry  in  the  first  ages  of 
the  world  supplies  the  researches  of  science. 

But  the  mist  which  dims  the  dawn  of  science 
is  dispersed  at  last  by  its  increasing  brightness ; 
critical  understanding  replaces  constructive  ima- 
gination, and  the  horizon  of  the  people  is 
enlarged.  Notwithstanding  the  many  cling  to 
tradition,  even  when  the  laws  of  nature  no 
longer  remain  hidden  to  them,  and  the  traces  of 
their  former  views  of  life  and  nature  still  live 
in  their  legends. 

Yet  the  moral  feeling  of  the  people  is  no  less 
active  than  its  imagination.  In  consequence, 
legends  and  traditions  are  almost  always  founded 
on  moral  ideas,  which  impart  to  them  a  still 
greater  charm  than  imagination  alone  could  have 
endowed  them  with. 

As  traditions  are  connected  with  the  primi- 
tive sciences,  so  are  they  often  founded  on  the 


•-••'* 
4  INTRODUCTION. 

popular  interpretations  of  natural  or  artificial 
monuments.  When  the  people  behold  an 
extensive  ruin  in  the  midst  of  a  silent  wood,  they 
do  not  inquire  as  to  its  real  history — to  them  it 
is  the  work  of  giants  or  of  fairies,  and  the 
name  of  the  spot  is  alone  sufficient  to  create  a 
legend. 

In  the  pages  introduced  by  these  lines,  we 
have  attempted  to  gather  Hungarian  traditions 
of  manifold  kinds.  They  belong  to  the  different 
nationalities  which  inhabit  Hungary. 

The  greater  part  of  these  legends  are  con- 
nected  with  phenomena  of  nature  and  explain 
the  origin  of  the  delicate  feather-grass,  of  erratic- 
blocks,  of  warm  springs,  and  especially  of  the 
characteristical  shapes  of  the  chalk-formation. 
Punishment  for  the  desecration  of  Sunday  is  the 
theme  of  more  than  one  popular  Hungarian  tale ; 
the  sinner  is  almost  always  transformed  into  a 
stone.  Isolated  chalk-rocks,  and  the  stalactites 
in  the  caverns,  often  resembling  human  forms 
from  afar,  are  explained  by  such  tales.  But  the 
cruel  lord,  too,  who  oppresses  his  peasants  — 
the  Dives  who  wastes  bread  whilst  poor  men 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

starve  at  his  threshold — and  the  bad  step-mother, 
who  compels  her  step-children  to  sin,  are  like- 
wise transformed  into  stones. 

The  German  brothers  Grimm  first  directed 
public  attention  to  the  fact,  that  many  popular 
tales  and  proverbs  are  fragments  of  ancient 
mythology.  When  paganism  lost  its  sway,  its 
reminiscences  appeared  often  disguised  as  tales ; 
the  more  easily  so,  as  the  fables  of  ancient 
mythology  were  nothing  but  the  brilliant  tissue 
of  phantasy  concerning  principles  of  moral  and 
physical  existence.  The  people  took  the  golden 
veil  for  the  treasure  itself,  and,  even  down  to 
our  own  days,  do  not  easily  part  with  it. 

It  is  proved,  that  northern  mythology,  the 
worship  of  "Wodin,  Thor,  Freya,  Suttur,  &c., 
once  extended  as  far  as  the  Teutonic  languages 
are  spread. 

The  recollections  of  these  gods  are  not  only 
preserved  in  the  names  of  days,  but  re-echo  in 
more  than  one  tale  and  proverb.  Even  the 
Slovak  tradition  of  "  Yanoshik"  is  derived  from 
this  source;  and  it  is  certainly  remarkable  to  find 
fragments  of  Teutonic  fables  in  the  tales  of  a 


6  INTRODUCTION-. 

Sclavonic  population,  which,  notoriously  had  its 
own  mythology  totally  different  from  that  of  the 
Teutons.  There  is  but  one  common  feature 
between  them,  viz.,  that  the  representation  of 
the  gods  and  their  deeds  is  wholly  unsuited  to 
the  plastic  arts.  In  consequence  of  this,  those 
legends  never  can  become  embodied  in  perma- 
nent forms,  impressing  the  popular  mind  so 
well  as  the  mythology  of  Southern  Europe,  or 
as  the  Eastern  tales,  though  no  less  philosophical 
in  their  views  of  life  and  nature.  Their  want 
of  well-defined  beauty  alienates  them  from  our 
taste. 

Wholly  different  from  those  legends  and 
tales,  which  are  connected  with  definite  spots, 
and  therefore  confined  to  the  neighbourhood  of 
single  localities,  we  meet  with  traditions  prover- 
bially known  all  over  the  country,  such  as  the 
"  Poor  Tartar,"  or  "  Pan  Twardowski." 

The  Jewish  tales  are  of  a  peculiar  stamp; 
they  are  derived  from  the  Talmud,  and  are  as 
typical  of  Judaism  as  the  unaltered  customs  of 
the  Jews. 

Some  legends  scarcely  connected  with  Hun- 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

gary,  have  also  been  introduced  in  the  following 
collection ;  their  poetical  merit  must  plead  their 
cause. 

The  legends  offered  in  this  volume  to  *  the 
public,  have  not  been  unintentionally  grouped 
in  their  present  order.  "  The  Baron's  Daughter," 
the  tale  of  "  The  Castle-  of  Zipsen,"  and 
"  Yanoshik,"  show  us  three  distinct  phases  of 
Hungarian  life  in  the  middle  ages.  In  the  first 
tale  we  see  the  contrast  of  the  proud  allodial 
proprietor,  disdaining  to  accept  property  as  fief 
from  a  King,  with  the  noblemen  attached  to  the 
Court.  The  second  sketches  the  opposition  of 
the  knight  to  the  burghers.  In  the  Slovack 
legend  of  "  Yanoshik,"  the  common  robber  ap- 
pears as  avenger  of  social  injustice ;  at  last  over- 
powered by  treason,  not  by  the  might  of  the  cruel 
lords.  The  poetical  idea,  that  Fortune  escapes 
in  the  very  moment  when  we  dream  we  have 
caught  hold  of  her — that  there  is  a  slip  between 
the  cup  and  the  lip — is  expressed  in  the  German 
tale  of  "  The  Free  Shot,"  and  is  again  exhibited 
in  the  Slovak  story  of  "  The  Golden  Cross  of 
Korosfo." 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

The  Jewish  legend  of  "  The  Guardians,"  and 
the  Persian  of  "  Anahid,"  picture  how  foolish  is 
self-conceit,  and  how  easily  even  the  best  and  the 
wisest  stumble  when  they  brave  temptation, 
instead  of  avoiding  it. 

In  contrast  with  the  brilliant  colours  glisten- 
ing in  these  recollections  of  the  East,  we  see  in 
the  German  tale  of  "  The  Nun  of  Eaushen- 
bach,"*  the  gloomy  hue  of  mediaeval  supersti- 
tion. The  legend  leaves  off  with  a  dissonance : 
the  nun,  regretting  her  vows,  and  longing  to 
forsake  the  peace  of  the  nunnery  for  worldly 
happiness,  cannot  escape  punishment.  Never- 
theless, our  sympathy  speaks  for  ner;  we  feel 
that  the  vows  imposed  by  the  veil  are  un- 
natural. 

But  in  the  Hungarian  tale  of  "  Monastir," 
the  cloister  appears  as  the  abode  of  expiation ; 
and  the  story  of  "  Wendelin  Drugeth,"  restored 
to  health  on  the  very  spot  he  had  profaned,  is 
a  medieval  version  of  the  ancient  Greek  legend 


*  The  inhabitants    of   the    Carpathian    valleys    are    of 
German  origin. 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

of  "  The  Spear  of  Achilles,"  the  rust  of  which 
alone  could  heal  the  wounds  it  inflicted. 

"The  Poor  Tartar"  and  "Pan  Twardowski" 
are  satires  on  the  domination  of  unamiable  ladies, 
such  as  we  often  meet  with  in  popular  tradi- 
tions. The  Polish  version  of  the  latter  leads  us 
into  the  realm  of  magic,  which  always  delights 
popular  imagination.  "  The  Eocks  of  Lip- 
nick,'7  "  The  Maidens'  Castle,"  and  "  The  Hair  of 
the  Orphan  Girl,"  a  Hungarian  Cinderella,  belong 
to  this  class,  and  represent  the  fairy  mythology 
of  Hungary  ;  and  if  in  "Jack  the  Horse-dealer," 
and  "Klingsohr,"  more  modern  sounds  prevail, 
the  reader  may  excuse  it,  considering  the  claims 
which  the  present  times  never  can  fail  to  have 
on  our  imagination. 

As  the  butterfly  which  gleefully  flutters 
around  the  flower  on  which  he  at  last  rests, 
opening  and  closing  his  wings  with  slow  cadence, 
is  no  longer  the  same  when  pinned  and  cas^d 
up  under  the  glass  of  a  cabinet ;  as  .the  flower 
pressed  between  the  leaves  of  a  herbarium 
loses  its  original  colour  and  fragrance  ;  thus 

the  popular  tale  too  is  deprived  of  its  natural 
1* 


10  INTRODUCTION". 

brilliancy  and  vigour,  when  repeated  far  from 
the  country  to  which  it  belongs.  We  have 
attempted  wholly  to  preserve  their  genuine 
purity;  how  far  we  have  succeeded  rests  with 
the  reader  to 'decide. 


THE  BAKON'S  DAUGHTER 

IN  the  twelfth  century,  when  Hungary  was 
disturbed  by  different  pretenders  to  the  sacred 
crown  of  St.  Stephen,  a  powerful  Baron  held 
sway  at  the  castle  of  Tarko,  in  the  county  of 
Saros.  He  withheld  his  homage  from  all  the 
claimants  of  the  throne,  even  after  one  of  them 
had  become  recognised  by  the  greater  part  of 
the  realm,  though  not  yet  undisputed  sovereign 
all  over  the  country. 

The  Lord  of  Tarko  was  grown  old  in  sorrow 
from  the  early  death  of  his  wife,  who  had  left  him 
no  son,  but  one  only  daughter,  Sabina,  the  sole 


12  POPULAR   TALES    OF   HUNGARY. 

heir  of  his  property,  with  whom  he  lived  in 
proud  solitude. 

Sabina  was  lovely,  and  though  no  eye  but 
her  father's  reflected  her  beauty  with  fond 
delight,  she  felt  that  she  was  not  born  for  a 
lonely  existence.  Her  pulse  beat  too  quick,  her 
imagination  was  too  glowing.  The  simple  occu- 
pations of  the  spindle  and  the  needle  did  not 
satisfy  her ;  the  pious  duties  of  attending  to  the 
poor  and  the  sick  in  the  neighbourhood  filled 
many  of  her  hours,  but  not  her  mind. 

She  often  joined  her  father  in  his  country  sports. 
The  free  breeze  of  the  autumnal  air,  the  quick 
movement  of  the  horses,  the  risks  of  the  chase, 
with  its  varying  success,  powerfully  attracted 
the  young  lady,  yet  by  no  means  could  prove 
lasting  charms  to  a  temper  longing  for  more 
varied  objects,  for  a  wider  field  of  exertion. 

When  in  the  afternoon  they  had  turned  home- 
wards with  slackened  pace,  allowing  breath  to 
their  weary  steeds,  and  the  Baron,  after  a  short 
meal,  had  retired  to  rest,  Sabina  mounted  the 
tower  of  the  castle,  and  watched  the  rosy  clouds 
which  roamed  over  the  ocean  of  heaven.  She 


THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.  .  13 

longed  to  follow  them,  and  to  know  whither 
they  were  sailing?.  Might  she  ever  wander  as 
freely  ?  And  should  she  then  be  alone  ?  No  ; 
certainly  there  would  be  one  to  direct  her  course, 
to  share  her  thoughts  and  her  feelings.  But 
where  was  he  whom  she  gladly  would  follow, 
and  who  could  lead  her  to  a  new  world  ?  And 
what  would  that  be?  No  dull  abode  like  her 
present  home,  but  a  paradise  of  enjoyment, 
where  she  would  dispense  felicity.  But  where 
was  her  guide  ?  Was  he  hidden  by  those 
mountains,  behind  which  the  purple  wings  of 
the  sun  had  sunk  down  in  repose?  Who 
could  tell  where  her  smiles  would  be  courted, 
where  she  should  assemble  young  friends  and 
delight  with  them  in  song  and  in  dance  !  And 
she  would  be  admired,  and  her  companion  would 
be  proud  of  her — he  the  most  amiable,  the 
most  distinguished  of  all  men.  To  him  all 
would  look  up  :  he  would  possess  all  hearts,  but 
would  care  for  none  but  his  Sabina's. 

She  descended  into  the  gloomy  hall  where  the 
rows  of  ancestral  portraits  alone  kept  her  com- 
pany. Her  reality  was  colourless  and  confined. 


14  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

The  Lord  of  Tarko  never  associated  with,  his 
neighbours,  whom  he  regarded  as  his  subjects. 
They  kept  at  respectful  distance,  and  only  ven- 
tured to  the  manor  when  a  matter  was  to  be 
decided,  which  they  had  failed  to  settle  amongst 
themselves.  Then  their  haughty  but  just  Lord 
was  appealed  to  with  unlimited  confidence. 

To  such  applications  he  ever  listened  with 
patriarchal  solicitude,  no  less  to  the  requests  of 
the  poor  and  the  weak ;  but  he  little  heeded 
what  was  going  on  beyond  the  outskirts  of  his 
manor,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  summons 
of  the  king,  who  called  the  magnates  and  the 
bishops  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance.  His 
passive  resistance  was  noticed  at  court.  "It 
must  be  overcome,"  said  the  King  to  his 
favourite  Count  Laszlo  ;  and  he  charged  him  to 
conquer  by  diplomacy  or  violence,  the  prejudices 
of  the  self-willed  Baron. 

Count  Laszlo  set  out  for  his  castle  of 
Saros,  with  which  he  had  been  invested  by  the 
monarch.  Here  brilliant  feasts  were  given  to 
hundreds  of  guests.  Cavaliers  and  dames  of 
the  whole  country  around  accepted  the  cordial 


THE  BAEON'S  DAUGHTER.  15 

invitation  of  the  nobleman ;  many  were  the 
mothers  who  echoed  his  praises  to  daughters 
nowise  indisposed  to  listen  with  due  attention. 

Never  before  had  the  stony  path  leading  up 
to  the  conical  summit  crowned  by  the  castle 
been  enlivened  with  more  horses,  never  had  it 
resounded  with  more  cheers,  never  had  the  bushes 
and  trees  sheltering  the  height  hidden  more 
whispers  of  love,  more  sighs  and  more  blushes, 
than  since  Laszlo  assembled  the  nobles  of  Saros 
to  glee  and  enjoyment,  and  to  loyal  remembrance 
of  their  victorious  King,  whom  they  boisterously 
celebrated  with  uplifted  tumblers  filled  to  the 
brim. 

But  the  loud  chorus  was  not  joined  by  the 
Lord  of  Tarko,  who  declined  for  himself  and  his 
daughter  to  appear  at  his  neighbour's,  though 
entreated  by  most  special  request,  to  grant  the 
favour  of  his  welcome  presence. 

Count  Laszlo  had  set  out  to  try  his  eloquence 
on  the  pride  of  the  old  nobleman.  The  Lord  of 
Tarko  had  received  him  with  dignity,  and 
politely  listened  to  the  enthusiastic  panegyrics 
of  the  young  man,  enumerating  the  bounties 


16  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

his   gracious  King  offered  to  all  faithful  sub- 
jects. 

To  this  the  Baron  coldly  answered :  "  That 
he  always  lived  retired  on  his  estate,  which  since 
the  time  of  the  division  under  Arpad*  had  been 
in  his  family,  and  that  none  of  them  had  ever 

*  The  original  title  of  property  in  Hungary  was  not 
feudal.  The  first  conquerors  of  the  country,  under 
Arpad,  divided  it  at  the  Diet,  which  they  held  on  the 
puszta  (heath)  Szer,  and  possessed  their  landed  property 
by  the  right  of  its  first  conquest.  But  the  Kings  gradually 
sought  to  transform  these  free  allodial  properties  into  fiefs. 
The  same  occurred  in  Germany,  where,  in  the  time  of 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  we  meet  a  knight  on  the  Rhine 
who  received  his  Emperor  without  rising  from  his  seat, 
having,  as  he  said,  his  castle  as  fief  from  the  Sun  alone, 
not  from  the  Emperor.  That  the  chronicler  has  found 
this  fact  remarkable  enough  to  be  recorded,  is  a  proof 
that  allodial  property  was  already  at  that  era  exceptional 
in  Germany.  In  Hungary,  the  theory  that  all  property 
is  derived  from  the  Crown  was  established  much  later, 
not  earlier  than  in  the  fourteenth  century.  Down  to  our 
days  there  exist  Hungarian  families  who  derive  their 
landed  property  from  that  first  division  (for  example,  the 
Szemeres),  and  who  are  proud  not  to  owe  their  estates  to  a 
royal  grant. 


THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.  17 

accepted  their  domain  as  a  fief  from  any  King, 
but  had  always  protected  and  defended  it  with- 
out aid.  And  I,  following  the  example  of  my 
illustrious  fore-fathers,"  the  Baron  continued, 
"  crave  for  no  more  than  the  liberty  of  not  bow- 
ing in  homage  to  a  Prince,  whose  claims  are 
still  contested.  Legitimacy  can  confer  the  right 
to  the  sacred  crown  of  St.  Stephen*  only  if 
recognised  by  the  whole  Hungarian  nation." 

While  he  spoke,  Sabina  entered  the  room. 
Count  Laszlo  beheld  her  and  dropped  all  contro- 
versy. He  saw  her,  and  forgot  what  purpose 
had  led  him  to  the  castle  of  Tarko.  He  listened 
to  the  tuneful  voice  of  the  maiden,  and  felt  it 
vibrate  in  his  heart.  At  last  she  rose,  kissed 
her  father's  hand,  and  gracefully  inclined  her 
head  to  the  stranger :  and  only  when  she  had 
left  the  room,  did  Count  Laszlo  notice  that  time 
had  fled,  and  that  he  must  depart. 

*  Under  the  house  of  Arpad,  the  succession  to  the 
throne  was  not  precisely  defined  by  the  law:  the  brother 
often  succeeded  instead  of  the  son.  The  law  granted  the 
crown  to  the  family  of  Arpad,  but  did  not  further  determine 
the  order  of  succession. 


18  POPULAK  TALES  OF  HUNGAKY. 

He  came  again,  though,  the  Baron  had  not 
returned  his  visit.  When  the  King's  favourite 
repeated  his  call  at  Tarko,  the  gates  were  closed, 
the  Baron  had  ridden  out  to  hunt  a  boar.  Count 
Laszlo  tried  again,  but  with  no  greater  luck ;  the 
Baron  was  always  out.  But  where  was  she,  for 
whose  very  shadow  the  eye  of  the  Count  anxi- 
ously spied  every  window.  The  cavalier  sprang 
from  his  steed,  and  took  a  walk  all  around  the 
terrace,  to  admire  the  varied  view  over  hill  and 
dale.  His  glance,  however,  did  not  wander  over 
the  green  landscape  ;  the  soil  alone  on  which  he 
trod,  seemed  to  attract  his  attention.  The 
traces  of  a  small  foot  had  caught  his  eye,  but 
they  were  soon  lost  in  the  grass,  where  the  light 
step  left  no  print. 

"Whilst  thus  he  had  waited  to  no  purpose,  and 
then  impatiently  returned  homewards,  Sabina 
was  standing  on  the  height  of  the  tower ;  but 
this  time  not  to  watch  Ihe  clouds  above  her,  but 
she  looked  down  and  regretted  that  no  cloud  of 
dust  appeared,  raised  by  the  hoofs  of  horses. 
She  waited  long  and  thought : — Shall  I  go  down 
and  inquire  if  the  Count  has  any  message  for 


THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.  19 

my  father  ?  But  my  father  must  soon  return ; 
I  had  better  not  go.  Yet  is  it  not  unkind  to 
leave  a  stranger  by  himself  in  the  hall  ? 

And  she  descended  some  steps  and  bent  down 
her  ear,  but  had  not  reached  the  terrace,  before 
she  changed  her  mind  and  went  up  again.  He 
had  just  past,  she  saw  the  raised  dust,  amidst 
which  sparkled  the  golden  tassels  of  the  retinue. 
The  bugle  presently  blew  from  the  opposite  direc- 
tion ;  she  hastened  to  her  apartment  to  compose 
herself  before  she  met  her  father.  He  kissed  her 
brow  as  was  his  wont,  inquiring  how  she  had 
spent  her  day.  She  blushed,  as  if  she  had  a 
mystery  to  hide. 

The  Baron  frowned  slightly,  and  turned  the 
conversation  on  the  versatility  of  the  present 
days,  the  vanity  of  youths,  and  the  instability 
of  kings.  Sabina  listened  most  devotedly,  but 
ventured  the  remark,  that  certainly  some  per- 
sons were  exceptions,  not  blinded  by  transient 
splendour,  but  solely  acted  on  by  conviction 
and  loyalty.  Her  sire  made  no  reply,  but  gave 
strict  orders  not  to  admit  any  stranger  to  the 
manor. 


20  POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

Count  Laszlo  now  had  recourse  to  artifice. 
He  sent  Ms  faithful  shield-bearer,  Gergely,  to 
Tarko,  who  went  there  as  if  in  want  of  service. 
His  countenance  spoke  so  well  for  him,  that  the 
Baron  engaged  him  as  groom,  and  little  thought 
that  he  thus  introduced  into  his  own  house  the 
messenger  of  love. 

Sabina,  though  by  far  more  inexperienced 
than  her  father,  had  a  better  memory,  and 
remembered  the  young  man,  who  had  ridden 
behind  his  master,  when  she  had  peeped  from 
the  balcony,  and  perceived  him.  She  therefore 
was  not  overpowered  with  surprise,  when  she 
mounted  her  palfrey,  to  find  a  small  strip  of 
vellum  twisted  round  the  -reins.  She  felt  that 
to  take  it,  would  be  to  acquiesce  in  clandestine 
correspondence ;  yet  could  she  leave  it  there, 
and  risk  detection,  when  presently  her  father 
would  join  her?  She  could  not  risk  his  anger 
— no,  no  :  she  slipped  the  note  under  her 
glove,  before  her  sire  came  down.  The  ride 
was  long,  so  thought  Sabina,  and  chid  her  well- 
trained  pacer,  who  stumbled,  quite  against  his  cus- 
tom, as  the  Baron  with  great  displeasure  noticed. 


THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.  21 

When  everybody  %  was  asleep  in  tne  manor, 
and  all  lights  were  extinguished,  one  yet  faintly 
glimmered  in  the  wing  inhabited  by  Sabina. 
She  sat  up  and  studied  very  hard  to  decipher 
some  clearly -traced  words.  What  they  were,  I 
cannot  say ;  but  they  must  have  been  very  hard 
to  understand,  as  she  read  them  over  and  over 
again,  till  her  lamp  was  almost  extinguished. 
She  then  laid  the  strip  under  her  pillow,  on 
which  she  leant  sleepless  for  hours,  until  the 
claims  of  nature  proved  more  powerful  than  her 
excited  thoughts. 

With  the  first  ray  of  the  morning,  she  woke 
again,  to  resume  the  interesting  perusal,  which 
she  hardly  left  for  an  instant,  till  the  bell  sum- 
moned to  mass.  From  that  time  she  practised 
writing  more  than  she  had  ever  done :  she  was 
no  artist  in  that  line;  her  fingers  knew  better 
how  to  move  the  strings  of  the  harpsichord 
than  to  handle  the  pen  ;  yet  certainly  her  most 
touching  strains  never  proved  so  effectual  as  the 
imperfect  words  she  traced.  They  were  an- 
swered with  glowing  expressions  of  love  and 
of  hope. 


22  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

One  Sunday  morning  the  Prior  of  the  Fran- 
ciscan cloister  of  Saros  entered  the  hall  of 
Tarko  Castle.  A  short  conversation  ensued 
between  the  friar  and  the  Baron,  t§te-d-t@te, 
who  accompanied  his  guest  to  his  threshold, 
bowed  stiffly,  retired  to  the  house,  and  never 
uttered  a  word  to  Sabina,  though  she  anxiously 
watched  her  father's  countenance. 

Sabina  complained  of  headache,  and  sought 
her  lonely  room.  She  knew  the  Prior  had 
come,  in  the  name  of  Count  Laszlo,  to  sue  for 
her  hand.  She  could  not  doubt  that  her  father 
had  refused. 

The  next  morning,  when  she  followed  him  in 
their  usual  ride,  the  Baron  was  more  eloquent 
than  usual.  lie  discoursed  about  the  arrogance 
.  of  the  Court-people,  who,  without  any  patrimony, 
any  property  but  the  fickle  favours  dispensed  by 
the  King,  think  they  might  aspire  to  connect 
themselves  with  independent  families,  to  whom 
royal  favour  is  wholly  superfluous,  and  even  with 
such  as  descend  from  the  ancient  Dukes,  the 
equals  of  Arpad  elevated  to  the  throne  by  their 
free  choice  only. 


THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTEK.  23 

"  Titles  and  fortune  granted  by  one  King, 
can  be  cancelled  by  another,"  continued  the  old 
man ;  "  and  if  the  Castle  of  Saros  is  larger  in 
extent  than  ours,  still  Saros  is  but  a  fief  for 
life,  being  the  residence  of  the  Lord- Lieutenant 
of  the  county;  whilst  Tarko,  though  smaller, 
has  been  raised  by  our  ancestors,  whose  names 
no  King  can  obliterate,  and  whose  property  does 
not  depend  on  royal  favour." 

Sabina  loved  her  father;  she  had  no  argu- 
ments to  oppose  his  views,  she  answered  there- 
fore with  tears  only,  and  these  the  old  Baron 
did  not  heed:  he  knew  that  as  in  spring  rain 
and  sunshine  alternate  every  day,  so  in  youth 
do  tears  and  smiles. 

When  the  Prior  returned  from  Tarko,  he 
met  Count  Laszlo,  on  horseback,  half-way  to 
Saros. 

"  What  tidings,  holy  father  ?"  cried  he :  "  how 
were  you  treated?  was  a  turkey  served  up  to 
you,  or  a  farrow  ?"* 

*  We  meet  in  Hungary  with  ancient  symbolical  cus- 
toms, such  as  were  generally  practised  in  the  middle 
ages  all  over  Europe,  and  still  are  usual  in  the  East. 


24  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Thfj  Prior  shook  his  head :  "  The  pride  of 
the  old  Lord  is  more  lofty  than  your  castle. 

Many  a  thing  which  would  be  reluctantly  expressed  with 
words  is  notified  by  a  symbol,  conveying  the  meaning 
without  any  further  unpleasant  explanation.  When,  for 
example,  a  young  man  presents  himself  as  suitor  in  a 
house  where  there  is  a  young  lady,  he  knows  at  the  very 
first  dinner,  whether  or  no  he  may  look  forward  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  wishes.  If  a  roasted  turkey  appears  on 
the  dinner-table,  it  means  that  he  is  welcome;  but  when 
this  good-omened  bird  is  substituted  by  a*  farrow,  the 
suitor  well  may  pack  up  and  drive  home;  the  bride  will 
not  be  his :  he  is  refused.  No  other  roast  meat  is  so  sym- 
bolical as  the  turkey  and  the  farrow.  When  any  other 
appears  at  dinner,  the  suitor  may  try  his  luck ;  he  is 
neither  accepted  nor  rejected,  and  may  wait  until  a  turkey 
or  a  farrow  announces  his  decree. 

This  custom  is  to  be  found  among  all  classes  in  Hun- 
gary. 

A  widow  lady  well  known  to  me,  had  been  for 
several  months  betrothed  to  an  officer,  who  of  course 
often  visited  the  house  of  her  parents,  with  whom  she 
lived.  Once  a  farrow  chanced  to  be  served  up ;  where- 
upon the  suitor  got  uneasy,  and  a  serious  explanation 
ensued  with  the  family  of  the  lady,  before  he  could  be  per- 
suaded that  the  farrow  had  not  been  intended  to  cany 
any  meaning. 


25 

He  dines  only  with  his  equals ;  with  his  daugh- 
ter alone,  with  no  one  else  in  the  county.  He 
declines  the  honour  of  your  connection." 

"Thus  they  have  been  from  the  times  of 
Arpad,"Laszl6  violently  interrupted.  "  Thus 
they  are  still,  these  proud  chieftains.  Are  they 
blind,  not  to  see  the  halo  which  surrounds  the 
sacred  crown  of  St.  Stephen?  Do  they  not 
know  that  our  gracious  Sovereign  is  resolved  not 
to  tolerate  their  haughtiness?  that  he  has 
burned  the  seats  round  his  throne  in  the  coun- 
cil-hall of  the  palace,  that  no  one  should  sit  at 
his  side  ?  Do  they  forget  that  we  are  no  longer 
the  .barbarians  led  by  Arpad,  able  to  conquer 
a  realm,  but  laughed  at  by  the  civilized  world 
for  want  of  breeding  ?  We  have  learned  from 
the  accomplished  Greeks,  and  from  the  valiant 
knights  of  Germany,  that  all  power  comes  from 
the  King,  and  that  the  only  source  of  property 
is  the  Crown.  Our  Sovereign  will  not  bear 
that  any  of  his  subjects  should  have  a  property 
not  confirmed  by  a  charter.  The  King  alone 
protects  the  country — the  King  alone  can  grant 
property.  Until  now  I  have  sued  where  I 


26  ..  OPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGAKY. 

might  have  used  violence,  as  the  King  gave 
me  the  order  to  enforce  the  homage  due  to  him. 
The  haughty  Lord  boasts  that  never  one  of 
his  stem  has  bowed !  Well !  but  a  branch  of 
this  stem  may  be  rent,  and  then  we  shall  see  1" 

That  very  night  Grergely  came  to  Saros,  as  he 
was  often  wont  to  do.  Count  Laszlo  closeted 
himself  up  with  him, — a  plan  was  conceived. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Sabina  again  accom- 
panied her  father  to  hunt.  Grergely  led  the 
party  over  most  difficult  paths,  and  cheered  the 
hounds  on  the  scent  of  the  boar.  The  sport 
was  prolonged  beyond  the  customary  time,  till 
the  horses  were  so  exhausted,  that  neither  spur 
nor  halloo  could  urge  them  on.  It  was  dusk, 
when  they  approached  the  hill  of  Tarko  Castle. 
Gergely  kept  close  to  Sabina,  who  was  some 
paces  in  advance.  A  by-path  diverged  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  where  stood  a  light  car  with 
four  neighing  horses.  Sabina  resolutely  sprang 
into  the  carriage,  assisted  by  the  coachman,  who 
had  given  up  the  reins  to  Gergely.  An  instant, 
and  the  voluntary  prey  was  carried  off  in  full 
gallop.  Before  long  the  old  Baron  under- 


.     THE  BARON'S  DAUGHTER.  27 

stood  what  had  happened,  and  powerfully  spurred 
his  steed  ;  but  it  was  spent  in  wind  and  strength, 
and  could  not  reach  the  fugitives,  who  had  just 
turned  round  the  corner  of  the  mountain  ;  yet 
his  master  continued  to  pursue  them  with 
unabated  determination. 

Laszlo  rode  out  to  meet  his  lady  fair.  When 
Gergely  perceived  him  in  the  distance,  below 
the  Castle  of  Saros,  the  faithful  shield-bearer 
beckoned  in  joyful  ecstacy  with  uplifted  hand. 
In  that  very  moment,  the  Lord  of  Tarko  had 
bent  his  bow,  and  the  arrow  hit  the  raised  arm. 
Count  Laszlo  hastened  to  the  support  of  Ger- 
gely, and  a  few  minutes  afterwards  held  his  bride 
in  his  arms. 

To  commemorate  the  spot  from  whence 
he  had  first  caught  *  sight  of  his  Sabina,  he 
founded  there  a  town,  to  which,  in  honour 
of  his  consort,  he  gave  the  name  of  Sabinow 
(Cibinum,  Szeben).  And  the  place,  where  the 
arm  of  Gergely  was  pierced,  was  solemnly  con- 
ferred on  this  devoted  attendant,  who  built  on 
this  ground  the  village  of  Gergely-lak  (the 
house  of  Gergely).  He  was  knighted  by  the 


28  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

King,  and  his  descendants  bore  in  their  escut- 
cheon the  arrow-pierced  arm  of  their  ancestor. 

Count  Laszlo,  after  his  marriage  with  Sabina, 
sought  to  reconcile  her  father  ;  but  the  Lord  of 
Tarko  replied  that  the  wife  of  the  Lord-Lieu- 
tenant of  Saros  was  a  stranger  to  him.  He 
never  saw  her  again. 

She  found  at  Court  all  the  delights  she  had 
longed  for.  The  most  dazzling  honours  were 
bestowed  upon  her ;  life  passed  in  a  whirl  of 
pleasures,  yet  Tarko  Castle  came  sometimes  back 
to  her  mind,  and  a  sigh  then  escaped  her. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  ZIPSEK 

IF  we  wander  from  Saros  to  Zipsen,  and 
reach  the  height  of  the  Braniszko — stormed  so 
bravely  during  the  last  war  by  the  lion-hearted 
Guyon — an  extensive  valley  opens  to  our  view. 
Many  small  towns  people  the  landscape,  and 
remind  us  that  manifold  intercourse  and  lucra- 
tive trade  enriched  those  parts  in  by-gone 
days. 

In  the  distance,  we  see  the  snowy  peaks  of 
the  Carpathians,  and  the  group  of  the  Tatra- 
Mountains,  which  border  the  horizon. 

In  the  foreground  rises  a  steep  rock,  on 
which  stand  the  ruins  of  the  "  House  of  Zip- 


30  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

sen,"— the  ancestral  Castle  of  the  Zapolyas, 
who,  in  one  century  (fifteenth  and  sixteenth), 
raised  themselves  from  the  soil  they  cultivated 
with  their  own  hands,  to  the  throne  of  Hungary 
and  Transylvania. 

Not  far  from  the  deserted  ruin,  on  its  right 
side,  is  the  small  town  of  Kirchdrauf,  once  of 
greater  importance  than  at  present.'  Now,  it 
more  resembles  a  wealthy  village  than  a  town ; 
though  the  smooth  hill,  which  forms  the  back- 
ground, is  still  adorned  by  the  Gothic  Cathedral, 
and  by  the  residence  of  the  Bishop  of  Zipsen, 
and  his  canons. 

In  this  neighbourhood,  as  in  all  parts  where 
the  ancient  knights  dwelt  in  their  castles  near 
to  towns,  and  exacted  contributions  from  the 
peaceful  inhabitants,  popular  tradition  remem- 
bers the  overbearing  insolence  of  the  lawless 
chiefs. 

We  distinguish  at  the  ruin  one  window,  just 
overlooking  the  most  abrupt  of  the  precipices, 
which  rises  perpendicularly  several  hundred  feet 
high  over  the  plain.  With  that  window  tradi- 
tion connects  a  tale. 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  31 

In  the  time  of  King  Charles  Eobert,  the 
Lord  of  the  House  of  Zipsen  led  a  wild  life. 
During  summer  he  hunted  the  bear,  in  winter 
the  wolves.  His  nights  used  to  be  spent  in 
drinking  and  gambling  :  the  bottles  on  the 
table  were  removed  only  for  the  dice,  and  the 
morning  found  him  and  his  companions  often 
senseless  on  the  ground.  His  resources,  of 
course,  could  not  long  endure  such  a  life.  He 
regretted  the  periods  of  civil  dissensions,  where 
a  strong  fist,  and  a  sharp  sword,  could  win 
wealth  and  renown  ;  when  the  princes  con- 
tended for  the  crown,  the  knights  used  the 
moment  to  fill  their  purses.  But  these  bright 
days  were  gone:  trade  and  industry  flourished, 
and  the  stout  burghers  throve  under  laws  which 
protected  the  peaceable  occupations  of  cowards, 
instead  of  kindling  the  noble  passions  of  war. 
Our  Knight  bitterly  lamented  these  inglorious 
days,  and  his  device  was : 

"  Let  commerce  perish,  manufactures  die, 
But  Heaven  defend  our  old  nobility.'* 

What  could  he  do  ?     Live  he  must ;  rob  he 


32  POPULAR   TALES    OF   HUNGARY. 

could  not;  so  lie  borrowed.  The  old  friar 
who  had  taught  him  in  his  boyhood  had 
often  explained  to  him  that  men  were  sur- 
passed by  the  bee  in  skill,  and  by  the  dog  in 
loyalty,  by  the  ant  in  industry,  by  the  ele- 
phant in  strength,  and  by  the  ape  in  nimble 
mimicry  ;  the  parrot  learns  to  speak,  and 
the  bull  bows  under  the  yoke  no  less  than 
man.  What,  then,  proves  the  superiority  of 
man — what  marks  his  difference  from  the 
beasts  ?  Nothing  else  than  that  he  may  be 
taught  to  borrow.  The  exclusive  prerogative 
of  man  is  to  incur  debts.  The  friar  was  looked 
up  to  by  his  friends  as  a  learned  man,  and  he 
often  used  to  say  to  those  who  attentively 
listened  to  him :  "  A  day  will  come  when  the 
truth  of  this  distinction  will  generally  be 
acknowledged,  when  civilization  will  be  tested 
by  the  use  the  nations  make  of  this  greatest 
human  prerogative — their  CREDIT  ;  when  the 
communities  which  have  no  debt  will  be  called 
barbarians,  and  those  will  be  the  most  powerful 
rulers  of  mankind,  the  missionaries  to  carry 
civilization  all  over  the  world,  who  have  the 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  33 

.  largest  National  Debt ;  though  there  will  always 
be  narrow-minded  fools  to  preach  financial  re- 
form, unaware  of  the  constitution  of  mankind, 
and  of  their  glorious  privilege." 

These  precepts  the  Knight  never  had  for- 
gotten ;  and  in  spite  of  his  thorough  contempt 
of  the  burghers,  he  often  deigned  to  accept 
their  money,  mortgaging  his  estates.  As  for 
the  interest,  he  paid  it  by  the  labour  of  his 
peasants,  who  were  forced,  instead  of  tilling  the 
ground,  to  weave  at  the  looms  for  the  traders  of 
Kirchdrauf,  and  to  manufacture  the  well-known 
linen  of  Zipsen. 

It  was  such  money-dealing  business  which 
one  fine  morning  brought  our  Knight  down  to 
the  town.  He  called  on  the  worshipful  Chair- 
man of  the  Guild  of  Tailors,  with  the  intention 
of  negotiating  a  new  loan.  He  introduced  him- 
self by  ordering  a  magnificent  suit  of  clothes,  to 
go  to  court,  as  he  pretended,  to  which  the  King 
had  summoned  him.  Whilst  the  said  artist 
applied  his  slip  of  paper  to  the  broad  chest  of 
the  cavalier,  taking  the  accurate  measure,  the 

Knight   complained   of  bad   times.     He   found 
2* 


34  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

that  agriculture  had  no  protection  ;  that  in  spite 
of  that  exemption  from  taxes,  which  was  the 
first  privilege  of  nobility,  land  was  burdened 
too  heavily,  as  landed  property  implied  the 
support  of  the  peasants,  who  could  not  work  if 
they  were  starving — and  as  a  nobleman  must 
live  in  an  expensive  style,  if  he  would  maintain 
his  position  in  the  world,  and  ensure  the  respect 
due  to  his  name,  he  is  unavoidably  always  short 
of  money.  His  younger  brothers  and  relations 
cannot  become  traders :  this  would  disgrace  the 
family.  What  shall  they  do,  whilst  the  King 
is  not  inclined  to  war,  and  therefore  needs  no 
army  ?  He  was  just  on  the  point  of  entering 
upon  the  question,  for  which  he  had  honoured 
the  plebeian  house  with  his  presence,  when  a 
buxom  girl  entered  the  room,  and  with  a  slight 
courtesy  handed  patterns  of  velvet  to  the  knight 
for  selection.  It  was  the  youthful  daughter, 
the  heiress  apparent,  of  the  wealthy  tailor.  A 
bright  idea  struck  the  Knight.  The  best 
improvement  of  his  estates  would  certainly  be 
a  lucrative  marriage.  As  for  the  daughters  of 
his  noble  neighbours,  they  had  repeatedly  refused 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  35 

his  suit ;  they  might  have  excused  his  reckless 
life,  but  his  debts  were  unpardonable.  The 
daughter  of  a  tailor  must  be  less  fastidious, 
and  would  certainly  esteem  herself  blessed  to 
get  a  coronet,  even  when  its  brilliancy  was  a 
little  dimmed.  He  therefore  dropped  the  topic 
of  the  hardships  of  landed  property,  turned  the 
conversation  to  the  pleasures  of  the  capital,  and 
did  not  fail  to  remark  that  none  of  the  ladies 
at  Court  could  vie  in  beauty  with  the  pride  of 
Kirchdrauf. 

The  tailor  silently  listened,  and  wondered 
what  could  induce  his  guest  to  such  speeches, 
and  such  a  change  in  his  mode  of  life ;  for  it 
was  well  known,  that  the  Knight  always  kept 
to  his  castle,  and  had  never  sought  the  Court. 
The  daughter  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  the 
conversation,  and  cared  not  for  the  gallantries 
of  the  Knight.  His  grizzly  beard  and  red  nose 
undid  with  her  the  effect  of  his  unusual  elo- 
quence. She  put  the  patterns  on  the  table, 
and  left  the  room.  The  unwieldy  Knight  had 
no  charm  for  her  :  her  head  and  her  heart  were 
occupied  by  the  accomplishments  of  a  nimble 


36  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

barber,  styled  Doctor  by  the  whole  town,  who 
had  just  returned  from  the  high  school  of 
Vienna.  He  wore  no  moustachios,  his  chin  was 
smoothly  shaved,  his  hair  elegantly  curled. 
His  was  not  the  heavy  step  of  the-  burghers, 
but  he  danced  through  the  streets  on  tiptoe ; 
and  how  he  could  talk!  He  knew  the  whole 
world,  and  was  the  friend  of  all  the  great  men 
of  Germany ;  he  had  cut  the  corns  of  the 
Emperor,  and  had  bled  the  lap-dog  of  the  Queen 
of  Bohemia.  What  were  the  words  of  the 
Queen,  which  she  spoke  in  low  accents,  when 
she  handed  to  him  a  diamond  ring  in  token  of 
her  gratitude  :  this  he  only  hinted.  As  to  the 
ring,  and  the  other  bounties  he  had  received  at 
the  different  Courts  wrhere  he  had  practised  his 
arts,  alas !  he  had  been  robbed  of  all  by  violence 
and  deceit,  and  had  returned  home  as  poor  as 
he  had  left  it.  The  worshipful  tailor  often 
said:  "It  is  all  humbug!"  but  Graspar,  the 
barber,  harangued  so  winningly,  that  no  one  of 
the  fair  sex  doubted  the  accuracy  of  his  asser- 
tions. In  spite  of  this  the  cruel  tailor  was  not  to 
be  moved  ;  he  would  not  give  his  daughter  to  a 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  87 

penniless  quack,  as  he  unhesitatingly  called  the 
young  suitor;  and  the  rosy-cheeked  Trude 
sighed,  and  contented  herself  to  meet  her  lover  in 
secret. 

A  few  days  after  the  Knight's  visit  at  the 
house  of  the  tailor,  Trude,  who  sat  sewing  at 
the  window,  not  wholly  intent  on  her  needle, 
saw  a  cavalcade  that  made  her  jump  from  her 
seat,  and  call  all  the  females  of  the  household  to 
peep  out  with  her.  Our  Knight  approached  in 
costly  attire  on  a  high  steed,  and  followed  not 
only  by  his  customary  retinue,  but  by  a  long 
range  of  attendants,  all  wearing  his  colours, 
though  some  of  their  tasseled  jackets,  pelisses 
and  fringed  boots  bore  so  visible  traces  of  the 
destructive  power  of  time,  that  they  had  a  most 
pitiful  aspect. 

Trude  did  not  fail  to  point  her  finger  at  seve- 
ral of  them,  and  to  exclaim  in  accents  half 
choked  with  laughing:  "Look,  look,  that's 
Janos,  from  whom  we  bought  our  corn,  this 
Misa  and  Gyorgy,  with  whom  we  had  the^bother 
about  the  hay.  What  jades  they  ride !  Poor 
animals,  hard  work  and  little  food ;  and  now 


38  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

they  must  dance  about  in  a  masquerade ;  it  is 
their  first  carnival,  I  dare  say." 

Meanwhile  the  cavalcade  had  come  to  the 
door.  The  Knight  beckoned  his  squire  to  hold 
the  reins  of  his  horse,  and  alighted  with  dignity. 
The  apprentices  of  the  tailor  looked  very 
astonished,  and  hastened  to  the  house-door  to 
open  it,  and  to  pass  in  review  the  horses  and 
riders.  The  Knight  pushed  them  aside,  and 
went  immediately  to  the  room  where  the  wor- 
shipful chairman  of  the  tailors,  the  great  capi- 
talist of  Kirchdrauf,  sat  at  the  table ;  but 
scarcely  had  the  knight  closed  the  door,  when  it 
was  slowly  opened  again,  and  a  sprightly  face 
witnessed  the  scene  between  the  Knight  and  the 
tailor. 

The  latter  moved  his  chair,  rose,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  and  said:  " Monday,  next  week,  was  the 
appointed  day,  my  Lord,  for  the  clothes  to  be 
ready  :  you  mistook  :  to-day  is  but  Wednesday." 

The  Knight  coughed,  took  a  seat,  indulgingly 
beckcgaed  the  tailor  to  do  the  same,  and  began 
with  hoarse  but  raised  accents  : 

"I    am   not  come  to  enforce   your  prompt 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  39 

service,  but  to  grant  you  an  honour  you  little 
expect.  Your  daughter  is  pretty,  and  I  under- 
stand, well  brought  up  to  mind  all  kind  of 
household  affairs.  I  want  some  one  to  attend 
mine,  and  as  I  owe  to  my  station  decorum  and 
decency,  I  will  take  your  daughter  as  my  wife, 
that  she  may  reside  in  my  castle  and  manage  it 
well.  Do  not  interrupt  me,"  he  continued,  as 
the  tailor  bowed,  and  was  going  to  speak :  "  do 
not  interrupt  me,  I  have  more  to  say.  I  under- 
stand and  appreciate  the  feelings  of  a  father  for 
his  only  child  ;  such  feelings  are  respectable  in 
every  station,  and  would  not  deprive  you  for 
ever  of  the  claims  nature  has  given  to  every 
parent.  I,  of  course,  expect  that  Gertrude, 
once  my  wife,  will  keep  to  my  manor,  and  not 
descend  to  her  plebeian  connexions ;  but  for  your- 
self I  allow  an  exception,  in  so  far  that  you  may 
come  to  see  her  as  often  as  you  please ;  the 
times  when  we  receive  company  always  excepted. 
Her  room,  of  course,  will  ever  be  open  to  you, 
even  if  you  can  get  no  access  teethe  baronial 
hall.  Call\er  in  now,  that  she  may  hear  what 
awaits  her,  and  prepare  for  her  happiness." 


40  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

During  the  whole  speech  of  the  Knight,  the 
tailor  fretted  on  his  chair.  It  was  an  awful 
revelation  to  him ;  he  knew  perfectly,  that  the 
estates  of  the  Knight  must  be  heavily  encum- 
bered to  induce  him  to  such  a  step,  and  became 
seriously  alarmed  about  the  amount  he  had  lent 
him.  He  remained  silent  for  a  little  while,  and 
hesitatingly  began : 

"  My  Lord,  that  will  not  do  for  us ;  my 
daughter — " 

1  'Will  answer  for  herself." 

Trude  completed  the  sentence,  pushing  wide 
open  the  door,  and  laughing  aloud  : 

"No,  your  honour,  I  thank  you,  you  are 
nothing  for  me  ;  I  have  other  fancies ;  nothing 
like  you  would  suit  me.  I  am  a  silly  girl ;  I 
have  no  ambition  to  preside  at  your  table,  and 
to  listen  to  the  conversation  of  your  illustrious 
guests,  who  care  more  about  sport  and  gambling 
than  about  polished  manners.  I  should  badly 
manage  your  castle  without  a  penny  in  the  chest, 
and  my  fortune  is  not  a  noble  one :  it  is  not  accus- 
tomed to  be  paying  interests  on  loans.77 

The    Knight  had  remained  perplexed   with 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEtf.  41 

surprise  ;  he  had  instinctively  risen  when  Trude 
entered  the  room ;  but  now  he  held  fast  by  the 
chair,  trembled  with  rage,  struck  the  table  with 
his  clenched  fist,  and  roared : 

"  Thou  impertinent  hussy,  I  will  teach  thee 
manners  ;  you  shall  remember  this  hour,  and 
repent  your  folly,  you  and  your  blockheaded 
father!  After  to-morrow  I  expect  my  pelisse 
and  my  coat ;  it  must  fit  well,  mind,"  he  added 
with  perfect  contempt. 

He  left  the  house  with  dignity,  but  he  felt 
that  he  had  made  himself  the  laughing-stock  of 
Kirchdrauf.  When  he  determined  to  propose 
for  the  daughter  of  the  tailor,  the  possibility  of 
a  refusal  had  never  crossed  his  mind.  How 
could  he  have  thought  that  the  child  of  a  burgher 
could  remain  insensible  to  the  honour  of  a  noble 
alliance  ?  Contemptible  as  he  always  had  held 
the  traders  to  be,  yet  he  had  given  them  credit 
for  being  most  anxious  to  be  honoured  by  a  look, 
by  a  word  from  a  cavalier ;  and  if  they  did  not 
seek  any  intercourse  with  him,  he  had  always 
taken  it  for  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  awe 
and  respect,  which  his  station  inspired. 


42  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

The  display  lie  had  made  of  his  liveries,  was 
too  extraordinary  an  event,  not  to  manifest  the 
*  intention  which  he  now  gladly  would  have  denied. 
And  how  could  he  stop  the  gossip  of  the  imper- 
tinent Trude,  who,  without  doubt,  would  boast 
of  the  unpleasant  history,  exaggerating  the 
humiliation  he  had  experienced. 

Gertrude,  in  fact,  notwithstanding  her  pert 
refusal,  was  highly  flattered  by  the  proposal ; 
and  though  she  pretended  to  have  a  perfect 
horror  of  such  a  scarecrow ,  over  head  and  ears 
in  debt ;  yet  she  did  not  take  it  amiss,  when 
her  friends  jokingly  addressed  her  as  •"  Lady 
Gertrude,"  and  tSte-d-tete  with  Doctor  Caspar, 
she  more  than  once  mentioned, — "But  for  you, 
silly  man,  I  might  be  a  Lady.  The  Knight  has 
taste  and  passions  ;  these  are  innate  to  aristocrati- 
cal  temper;  they  cannot  be  acquired;  they  are 
the  natural  privileges  of  high  birth/' 

"  No  doubt,"  the  amiable  barber  replied ;  "  I 
know  that  best,  who  have  ever  lived  at  Courts 
with  the  most  distinguished  nobles.  But  believe 
me,  love,  who  am  a  man  of  the  world,  aristo- 
cracy is  not  worth  my  lancet,  if  it  has  not  the 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  43 

polish  of  fashion,  and  elegance  of  manners.  We, 
the  new  generation,  who  have  seen  foreign 
countries,  we  know  that  best."  And  he  tossed 
up  his  head  and  looked  most  superior,  so  that 
Trude  certainly  thought  herself  a  fortunate  girl. 
The  Knight  had  sworn  revenge,  and  he  was 
the  man  to  keep  his  word,  except  in  matters 
unsuitable  to  his  dignity,  as  money-promises, 
for  example.  He  would  capture  the  saucj^ 
lass,  and  fling  her  away  like  a  payable  bill, 
presented  by  an  importunate  creditor.  His 
guests  applauded  this  laudable  intention,  and 
freely  offered  their  offensive  and  defensive 
support.  But  within  the  walls  of  the  town  they 
had  no  power,  nor  did  they  dare  to  attack 
where  the  gates  could  be  shut  upon  them. 
But  the  men  of  the  Knight  daily  spied  around 
Kirchdrauf,  to  find  out  whether  the  proud 
daughter  of  the  tailor  was  venturing  out.  She 
often  ran  away  from  household  cares  and  house- 
hold work ;  but  then  she  spent  her  leisure  hours 
not  out  of  town,  but  at  the  house  of  some  kind 
neighbour,  where  she  met  her  friend,  who 
in  the  evening  saw  her  safe  home,  whilst  the 


44  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY.  . 

worshipful  chairman  presided  at  the  meetings 
of  his  guild,  or  held  private  consultations  with 
its  most  distinguished  members. 

Weeks  had  passed ;  the  event  of  the  Knight 
and  the  tailor  had  become  hacknied ;  its  charm 
of  novelty  had  worn  out,  and  it  was  but  in 
flattery  to  the  pretty  Trude  that  it  was  yet 
mentioned.  The  threats  of  the  Knight  were 
not  heeded.  How  would  he  venture  to  attack 
the  daughter  of  a  man  who  was  on  the  eve  of 
becoming  Mayor,  when  he  would  have  at  com- 
mand the  forces  of  a  town,  not  indeed  large  by 
itself,  but  powerful  by  its  confederation  with  all 
the  other  towns  of  the  county,  fifteen  in  number. 

Autumn  had  come,  not  with  the  pleasures  of 
vintage  in  the  cold  climate  of  these  northern 
parts,  but  with  the  amusement  of  gathering 
nuts,  pears,  and  apples,  in  the  orchards.  The 
young  folks  of  Kirchdrauf,  too,  set  out,  armed 
with  long  poles,  to  beat  down  the  nuts  from  the 
trees,  and  carry  them  off,  with  the  pears  and 
apples,  in  baskets  taken  for  the  purpose. 

The  wealthy  tailor  had  a  garden  a  little  way 
from  town.  Thither  Trude  went  with  her  ser- 


THE   CASTLE    OF   ZIPSEN.  45 

vant  and  the  apprentice  boys.  She  would  have 
no  other  company,  she  said,  as  the  weather  grew 
uncertain,  and  haste  was  necessary  to  get  the 
fruit  in  before  dusk. 

The  afternoon  was  fine ;  and  when  the  work 
was  done,  Trude  had  filled  the  baskets,  and 
loaded  the  car,  to  be  drawn  home  by  the  appren- 
tice boys,  by  whom  she  sent  the  message,  that 
she  and  the  servant  would  shortly  follow.  She 
set  out,  but  the  Doctor  chanced  to  meet  her  on 
the  road,  and  reminded  her  that  she  might  catch 
cold.  Indeed,  she  had  forgotten  her  cloak  in 
the  orchard,  and  felt  very  chilly.  The  Doctor 
said  he  would  run  for  it,  but  she  thought  it 
would  be  dangerous  for  her  health  to  sit  down 
waiting,  after  she  had  got  warm  by  the  walk. 

"  Yes,  that  positively  might  be  dangerous," 
said  the  Doctor. 

"  Well,"  interposed  Gertrude,  "  I  will  fetch 
my  mantle  myself:  do  you  meanwhile  go  home, 
Hancsa,  my  life,  to  look  after  the  supper,  that  it 
may  be  ready  when  father  comes  in.  I  will 
join  you  before  he  comes." 

The  happy  pair  were  left  to  each  other,  and 


46  POPULAK  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

strolled  back  to  the  garden ;  but  Trade  got  very 
tired,  when  they  were  returning.  They  sat  • 
down,  continuing  an  animated  conversation, 
which  made  them  totally  unaware  that  the  place 
of  their  rest  was  discovered  by  the  spies  of  the 
Knight,  who  no  sooner  got  sight  of  the  luckless 
lovers,  than  they  burst  forth,  and  captured  the 
girl,  without  taking  notice  of  the  Doctor,  who 
most  prudently  made  no  attempt  to  resist,  but 
ran  away  for  succour,  when  he  noticed  the 
superior  forces  of  the  adversaries.  Before 
he  could  return,  Trude  had  been  carried  into  the 
Castle. 

She  was  brought  to  the  Knight,  in  the  great 
room,  where  the  window  overlooked  the  whole 
country.  He  bitterly  reproached  her  with  in- 
gratitude, but  promised  her  forgiveness,  if  she 
instantly  would  follow  him  to  the  chapel ;  if 
not,  he  would  use  violence.  The  girl  refused 
the  robber — the  thief,  as  she  called  him  ;  pushed 
him  vigorously  aside,  and  rushed  to  the  window 
to  look  out  for  rescue.  She  saw  no  chance  of 
aid.  The  Knight  opened  the  door,  and  cried 
out: 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  47 

"  Come,  friends,  and  see  my  betrothed.  John, 
you  shall  be  my  bridesman.  Take  her  to  the 
chapel ;  the  friar  expects  us." 

He  then  turned  round  to  catch  hold  of  the 
girl,  but  before  he  could  make  good  his  purpose, 
she  had  swung  herself  on  the  window,  and,  with 
desperate  resolution,  threw  herself  from  the 
dizzy  height. 

The  Knight  and  his  guests  were  appalled ; 
they  thought  her  dead,  but  her  spreading  gar- 
ments formed  a  parachute,  and  deadened  the 
violence  of  the  fall;  so  that  she  reached  the 
ground  without  other  injury  than  the  dislocation 
of  the  great  toe  of  her  right  foot.  She  remained 
prostrate,  deprived  of  her  senses. 

Meanwhile,  the  brave  Doctor  had  returned 
protected  by  all  the  haidus*  and  by  all  the 
younger  members  of  the  Tailors'  Company, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  followed  in  due  distance 
by  the  car  of  the  alarmed  chairman. 

Great  confusion  prevailed ;  dusk  had  come 
on ;  but  the  provident  Hancsa  had  carried  a 

*  The  constables  in  Hungary  are  called  "  hajdus." 


4.8  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

lantern,  and  it  shed  light  on  the  senseless  Trude. 
The  servant  roared  out  for  the  Doctor,  who 
had  left  the  field  of  action  to  the  haidus, 
and  stept  behind  to  reconnoitre  the  position  of 
the  enemy,  wisely  remarking,  that  never  did  a 
man  of  experience  attack  without  a  thorough 
examination  of  what  he  was  about. 

"Haidu!  haidu !  here  seems  danger!"  he 
cried ;  and,  when  joined  by  them,  he  followed 
the  summons  with  due  circumspection.  But 
Hancsa  screamed : 

"  No  more  danger ;  here  she  lies,  the  poor 
little  one,  stone  dead  1" 

At  this  tiding,  the  whole  assembly  thronged 
around,  and  the  Doctor  pushed  his  way.  He 
felt  the  pulse,  and  exclaimed : 

"  She  is  not  lost !  water,  water  !" 

A  lad  brought  it  in  his  hat.  Trade  was 
besprinkled  with  it ;  she  soon  recovered,  and 
was  raised  up.  A  laugh  was  always  more  fami- 
liar to  her  mind  than  a  tear  to  her  eye.  So 
she  heartily  laughed  at  the  adventure,  smiled 
at  her  lover,  and  embraced  her  father,  who  had 
left  his  car,  and  had  forgotten  all  anxiety,  and 


THE   CASTLE   OF   ZIPSEN.  49 

all  fright,  and  all  anger,  at  the  sight  of  his 
child.  Yet,  when  she  now  tried  to  step  into 
the  car,  she  felt  a  violent  pain  in  her  foot,  and 
declared  she  certainly  had  broken  a  bone.  So 
the  worshipful  tailor  hastily  requested  the  barber 
to  come  along  with  them.  Trade  was  soon 
placed  on  her  couch;  the  injured  foot  was 
examined  by  the  doctor,  who  looked  so  grave, 
and  prepared  the  bandage  with  looks  so  know- 
ing, that  the  fond  father  grew  quite  agitated, 
and  began  to  fear  that  his  darling  might  be 
very  dangerously  laid  up,  and  might  not  recover 
the  use  of  her  limb.  But  the  doctor  assured 
him  that  with  care  and  attention  all  would  be 
well,  he  answered  for  it.  This  he  pronounced 
with  such  confidence,  that  the  old  man  felt  quite 
re-assured,  and  begged  "the  doctor"  not  to 
depart;  now,  for  the  first  time,  applying  this 
name  to  the  young  man,  whom  until  then  he 
had  styled  a  quack. 

Trude  recovered,  though  not  so  fast  as  not 
to  require  the  diligent  attendance  of  the  doctor 
But  when  at  last  he  could  not  himself  help 
acknowledging  that  Trude  no  longer  needed 


50  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

ids  services,  the  worshipful  tailor  shook  his 
hand,  and  presented  him  with  a  well-filled  purse, 
manufactured  by  his  daughter's  own  hands. 
The  young  man  accepted  the  purse,  but  returned 
the  money,  saying,  that  he  had  a  greater  favour 
to  request.  The  tailor  looked  somewhat  less 
benignant  than  he  had  done  for  a  long  time,  but 
nevertheless  said : 

"Speak.7' 

Graspar  then  said,  that  an  old  aunt  of  his  had 
died,  and  had  left  him  more  ready  money  than 
he  could  dispose  of,  that  he,  therefore,  would 
reckon  it  a  high  favour  if  the  worshipful  tailor 
would  take  the  small  capital  at  whatever  rate 
of  interest  he  thought  fit,  as  no  money  could  be 
placed  safer  than  with  him. 

The    old  man  thought  the  young  fellow  had 
real  good  sense,  and  answered : 
"  Well,  well,  I  don't  mind." 

The  doctor  was  now  allowed  to  visit  the 
house,  and  after  some  months  he  often  sat 
beside  Trude,  in  the  presence  of  her  father ;  and 
a  full  year  did  not  elapse  before  he  called  her 
his  bride. 


THE   CASTLE  OF   ZIPSEN.  51 

The  impression  the  adventurous  leap  had 
made  on  the  Knight  was  a  lasting  one.  Nothing 
short  of  a  miracle  could  have  saved  the  girl ; 
lie  therefore  feared  the  vengeance  of  heaven. 
He  gave  up  his  extravagant  pursuits,  led  a 
more  regular  life,  and  never  more  disturbed  the 
peace  of  the  daughters  of  Kirchdrauf 


YANOSHIK,  THE  EOBBEE. 

IN  the  time  when  King  John  Zapolya  waged 
war  with  King  Ferdinand  of  Hapsburg,  Yanoshik, 
a  mighty  robber,  dwelt  in  the  mountains  of  the 
counties  Lipto  and  Arva.  This  Yanoshik  was  a 
fine  fellow.  He  swayed  like  a  king  over  rich 
and  poor,  and  administered  justice  with  no  less 
authority  than  the  sheriff  himself.  Yet  to  women 
he  was  sweet  as  honey,  and  to  the  poor  as  wel- 
come as  a  roasted  turkey  to  a  suitor.  In  the 
Jew  and  usurer  on  the  contrary,  he  created  even 
more  terror  than  the  appearance  of  the  wolf  in 
the  fields.  His  strength  was  unparalleled,  and 
the  supernatural  axe  he  possessed  made  him 


THE   BOBBEK.  53 

quite  unconquerable.  "Whenever  it  wag* flung, 
it  hit  the  aim,  and  then  returned  into  the  hands 
of  Yanoshik,  as  the  iron  to  the  magnet.* 

He  once  knocked  aside  with  his  foot  alone 
the  stately  coach  of  the  Lord-Lieutenant,  who 
was  coming  back  from  dining  with  the  Bishop. 
The  coachman  whipped  his  four  gallopping  horses, 
and  little  heeded  a  poor  boy,  who,  driving  back 
unsold  sheep  from  the  market,  could  not  get 
out  of  the  way  quickly  enough.  The  boy  hallooed 
and  the  coachman  swore,  when  Yanoshik  ap- 
peared on-  his  roan  horse.  Before  the  snoring 
Lord-Lieutenant  within,  or  the  Huszar  and  the 
Slovak  without,  noticed  the  robber,  his  boot  had 
given  such  a  tremendous  push  to  the  carriage, 
that  it  bounded  downright  over  the  ditch,  and 
carried  along  with  it  the  alarmed  horses. 

Another  time  Yanoshik  came  to  the  tavern  of 
a  village,  where  fifty  Svab-soldiersf  were  quar- 

*  The  herdsmen  in  Hungary,  especially  the  Kanasz 
swineherds,  excel  in  throwing  the  axe. 

f  Most  of  the  German  immigrants  who  settled  in  Hun- 
gary, were  "  Svabians."  Many  of  them  were  wretched 
creatures,  physically  degenerate  by  misery,  and  therefore 


54         POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

tered."  They  sat  at  the  table  swallowing  fat 
sausages  and  wine,  and  cursing  the  miserable  pea- 
sant who  lived  upon  oats. 

The  peasants  gathered  before  the  doors  of  the 
house,  complained  of  the  Svabs,  their  ill-treatment 
and  appetite,  no  less  than  of  the  niggard  Jew, 
who  had  claimed  their  crop,  before  he  allowed 
any  more  spirit  on  credit. 

Yanoshik  listened  awhile,  then  stepped  into  the 
room,  mixed  in  the  talk,  and  advocated  the  poor 
peasant,  who  had  to  toil  and  to  pay,  whilst  the 
Svabs  lived  at  his  expense.  The  soldiers,  at 
first  with  words,  but  soon  with  hands  too, 
opposed  the  Slovak,  whom  they  found  a  sturdier 
man  than  they  were  wont  to  encounter.  But 
fifty  to  one,  there  was  a  chance.  The  Slovak, 
nevertheless,  proved  a  fair  match  to  the  game. 
Leaning  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  his  short 
axe  hit  all  around.  Like  the  balloon  of  a  school- 
boy, it  always  rebounded  into  the  hands  of 
Yanoshik,  who  flung  it  again  right  and  left  without 

looked  down  upon  by  the  Hungarian  peasant,  who  in  con- 
sequence not  seldom  uses  "  Svab"  as  a  nick-name,  which  he 
extends  to  all  Germans. 


THE   BOBBER.  55 

once  missing  his  aim.  All  in  the  room  was 
turned  topsy  turvy  ;  cracked  bottles,  benches 
and  tables  thrown  and  broken,  covered  the  floor, 
and  soon  a  dozen  of  the  combatants  were 
stretched  senseless :  the  others,  bewildered  at  the 
supernatural  weapon  of  their  adversary,  took  to 
their  heels,  and  never  stopped  till  at  dawn  they 
reached  their  officers,  who  attended  the  feasts 
and  balls  usual  in  St.  Nicholas  during  the 
quarterly  county  meeting. 

Yanoshik,  meanwhile,  had  disappeared,  followed 
by  the  half-suppressed  invectives  of  the  Jewish 
innkeeper,  and  by  the  enthusiastic  cheers  of 
the  mob,  who  had  witnessed  the  struggle  with 
open  mouths,  and  drops  of  anxiety  on  their 
brows. 

At  St.  Nicholas,  the  military  men  no  less  than 
the  legislators  of  the  county,  were  astounded  at 
the  impudence  of  the  robber  in  their  very  neigh- 
bourhood. They  ordered  their  horses  to  be 
saddled,  and  their  carriages  to  be  got  ready  ;  and 
set  out  after  dinner  to  investigate  the  mischief 
perpetrated,  and  to  ascertain  the  direction  the 
criminal  had  taken. 


56  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

When  the  stately  procession  arrived  at  the 
village,  it  was  received  with  cheers,  but  no  one 
was  able  to  tell  whither  the  robber  had  gone. 
Old  and  young  were  summoned  to  give  evidence. 
Every  one  described  differently  the  appearance  of 
Yanoshik.  One  said  he  was  of  gigantic  frame, 
and  had  owl's  eyes.  Another  represented  him 
short,  covered  all  over  with  hair  like  a  bear,  and 
wearing  the  diamond  ring  of  the  Bishop  on  his 
fore-finger. 

But  singular  it  is,  that  in  direct  opposition, 
all  females  accorded  in  calling  him  a  fine  lad, 
and  a  gallant  fellow,  and  that  they  did  not 
seem  the  least  afraid  of  the  monster. 

All  these  contrary  accounts  were  taken  into 
protocol,  and  deposited  in  the  archives  of  the 
county.  The  pursuit  of  the  robber,  however, 
was  put  off. 

Year  passed  after  year,  and  Yanoshik  could 
not  be  captured,  though  he  did  not  fail  to 
appear  but  too  frequently  at  the  manors  of  the 
lords,  who  spent  their  income  far  away  at  the 
court  of  the  king  in  Vienna,  and  allowed  their 
stewards,  in  that  lawless  time,  to  drive  the  poor 


THE   EOBBER.  57 

peasant  from  his  hut  and  his  soil,  regardless  of 
every  written  law  of  the  country. 

At  such  manors,  Yanoshik  exacted  cattle  and 
corn,  sheep  and  wine,  and  divided  the  prey 
amongst  the  poor  people.  He  freely  exercised 
the  principle  of  Proudhon's  "  gratuitous  credit," 
and  constituted,  in  his  own  single  person,  the 
Court  and  the  Chief  Justice,  without  appeal. 
His  abode  never  could  be  traced.  Hajdus 
(constables)*  were  sent  after  him  to  the  moun- 
tains, and  into  the  woods,  but  they  never  found 
him.  Sometimes  when  they  rested  at  an  inn, 
after  fruitless  search,  a  herdsman  appeared,  a 
friar,  or  a  pedlar,  and  related  stories  of  Yanoshik 
and  his  feats.  And  after  the  men  had  half- 
impatiently  listened,  and  termed  the  lawless 
hero  a  wretched  coward,  who  always  fled  before 
them,  he  threw  off  his  disguise,  and  exclaimed  : 
"  I  am  Yanoshik !"  but  at  the  same  time  wielded 
his  axe  according  to  his  custom,  and  had  dis- 

*  The  county  police  on  foot  is  called  "  Hajdu," 
whilst  the  county  police  on  horseback  is  termed 
"  Hussar." 

3* 


58  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

appeared  before  his  pursuers  had  recovered  their 
senses. 

But  the  man  unconquerable  by  the  sword, 
and  not  to  be  overtaken  by  pursuit,  was  snared, 
like  Samson,  by  the  charms  of  .a  girl.  The 
round  rosy  cheeks  and  sky-blue  eyes  of  Marcsa, 
the  servant  of  the  curate,  shone  with  self- 
satisfaction,  when  she  walked  to  church  on  a 
Sunday.  Her  long  flaxen  tresses  were  brightly 
smoothed  with  lard,  and  braided  with  the  most 
gaudy  ribbons ;  the  white  muslin  handkerchief 
which  covered  her  neck  was  embroidered  with 
gold ;  but  more  than  of  anything  else  was  she 
proud  of  the  crimson  colour  of  her  petticoat, 
and  of  the  boots  which  she  carried  in  her  hand, 
and  pulled  on  only  at  the  door  of  the  church. 
They  certainly  were  as  beautiful  as  any  sold  in 
the  market  of  St.  Nicholas  at  the  time  of 
indulgence,  when  the  procession,  joined  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring  villages,  brought 
thousands  of  customers  thither.  But  who  gave 
all  those  fineries  to  Marcsa  ?  Surely  not  the  old 
curate !  the  strings  of  his  purse  were  drawn 
tight:  this  was  well  known.  And  though  the 


THE   ROBBER.  59 

lads  of  the  village  pointed  out  Marcsa  to  the 
girls  they  led  to  the  dance  on  the  church-ale, 
and  shook  hands  so  heartily  with  the  pretty 
wench,  that  their  companions  reddened  and  gave 
them  a  pull,  yet  she  always  walked  by  herself, 
and  seldom  joined  the  dance  and  the  frolic.  In 
the  evening,  after  work  was  done,  she  sat  lonely 
before  the  door  of  the  Parsonage,  whilst  all  the 
other  girls  had  their  talk  with  their  sweethearts 
out  of  doors.  She  was  up  before  the  cock 
crowed,  and  was  the  last  to  leave  labour.  The 
cows  of  the  curate  were  well  kept,  his  geese 
excellently  fattened,  his  cabbage  was  carefully 
dug  up,  his  winter-stock  always  proved  plentiful, 
and  though  he  was  an  authority  as  to  fare,  he 
never  had  to  complain  of  his  cook.  For  these 
reasons  (it  was  whispered)  he  shut  his  eyes  to 
certain  walks  in  the  woods,  where  his  servant, 
it  seems,  searched  for  berries  and  herbs  in  the 
most  remotest  corners. 

That  Yanoshik  was  the  lover  of  Marcsa  was 
well  known  in  the  village,  but  no  one  cared  to 
lay  information  against  them.  Yet  as  every 
mystery  gets  abroad,  so  this  too  reached  the 


60  POPULAR   TALES    OF   HUNGARY, 

ears  of  the  county  magistrate.  The  sheriff 
summoned  a  county  meeting ;  the  judges  were 
elected,  and  Marcsa  put  before  the  court.  She 
laughed  at  the  examination,  and  said,  that  the- 
axe  of  her  Yanoshik  would  make  quick  work  of 
dispersing  the  illustrious  assembly.  The  truth 
of  this  was  admitted,  and  Marcsa  was  released. 
But  whilst  the  gentlemen  debated,  she  had  con- 
ceived so  warm  a  friendship  for  Miso,  the  hand- 
some constable  on  guard  in  the  court  of  the 
county-house,  that  she  invited  him  to  come  to 
see  her  in  the  village.  When  she  met  Yanoshik 
again,  she  no  longer  liked  him ;  for  she  found 
him  too  stern  in  looks,  and  too  poor  in  attire. 
His  plain  linen  shirt  was  fastened  in  front  of 
his  neck  with  a  brass  buckle  :  he  wore  a  black 
leather  belt  with  yellow  buttons,  and  Slovak 
half-boots,  while  long  hair  wildly  covered  his 
brow.  What  a  contrast  to  the  elegant  constable, 
with  the  red  hussar-jacket,  richly  trimmed  with 
strings,  and  boots  as  smoothly  blackened  as  his 
twisted  moustachio ! 

She  tried   to    persuade  Yanoshik  to  throw 
away  his    shabby  belt,  and  to   spare   some  of 


THE   ROBBER.  61 

the  riches  for  himself,  which  he  used  to  dis- 
tribute amongst  the  poor  people;  but  he  refused. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  rejected  a  request  of 
his  Marcsa,  and  as  she  did  not  leave  off  insisting 
on  her  desire,  he  at  last  said : 

"  Know,  woman,  that  my  strength  rests  with 
my  belt :  to  take  this  from  me  is  to  bereave  me 
of  my  power." 

Marcsa  weighed  these  words  in  her  mind, 
and  when,  on  a  cloudy  evening,  the  fine  con- 
stable from  St.  Nicholas  mixed  with  his  praises 
of  her  charms  some  questions  about  Yanoshik, 
she  could  not  refrain  from  boasting  that  the 
terrific  robber  was  in  her  power,  as  she  alone 
knew  that  by  taking  from  him  the  strength- 
imparting  belt,  he  would  be  at  her  mercy. 

The  constable  managed  so  well,  that  before 
he  retraced  his  steps  to  St.  Nicholas,  he  knew 
that  every  Saturday  during  the  summer,  the 
robber  used  to  visit  a  cavern  in  the  thickest 
part  of  the  pine-forest,  near  the  red  cross  on  the 
precipice  of  the  mountain  ;  that  in  an  elevated 
niche  of  that  cavern  he  kept  an  immovably 
heavy  chest,  in  which  he  locked  up  plate  and 


62  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

coin,  which  he  dispensed  to  the  poor  in  the 
winter,  when  the  sufferings  of  the  indigent  are 
worst;  that  he  came  thither  at  dusk,  and  slept 
until  dawn,  as  the  pathless  descent  was  imprac- 
ticable in  the  darkness  of  night.  Miso  repeated 
to  himself  every  word  of  this  confidence  during 
his  long  walk  to  St.  Nicholas.  On  the  next 
Saturday,  he  resumed  that  walk,  but  accompa- 
nied by  a  gipsy,  who  knew  well  all  the  paths  in 
the  country,  and  followed  at  a  short  distance  by  a 
company  of  soldiers. 

At  several  hundred  paces  from  the  village 
they  turned  into  the  woods,  and  climbed  up  a 
rough  ascent.  It  was  long  dark  when  they 
arrived  at  the  cavern,  which  the  gipsy  entered 
with  Miso,  who  held  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  and 
hid  it  with  the  folds  of  his  white  cloak,  so  as  not 
to  awake  the  robber  by  its  rays ;  stepping 
carefully,  he  almost  tumbled  over  the  gigantic 
frame  of  a  man,  couched  with  his  face  on  his 
hands.  At  his  side,  in  the  indistinct  shadow  of 
a  hnge  chest,  lay  a  short  axe  and  a  key. 

The  constable  warily  drew  forth  his  sabre, 
and  cut  the  belt  of  the  sleeping  robber  so  inge- 

, 


THE  ROBBER.  63 

niously  as  not  to  touch  his  skin  or  disturb  his 
sleep.  A  slight  whistle  sufficed  to  bring  the 
soldiers  to  the  entrance.  The  gipsy  meanwhile 
had  with  long  fingers  purloined  the  weapon  of 
Yanoshik,  taken  up  the  key,  ascended  and  noise- 
lessly unlocked  the  chest,  and  put  the  axe  into 
it.  But  hardly  had  the  chest-lid  been  closed 
and  the  key  been  turned,  when  the  axe  began 
to  hammer  so  furiously  that  Yanoshik  awoke, 
and  aware  of  treachery,  but  relying'  on  his 
strength,  raised  both  his  fists  to  do  havoc  amongst 
the  enemies.  But  when  he  sprang  up  in  rage, 
his  belt  fell  on  the  ground,  his  strength  failed. 
Miso,  from  behind,  seized  his  raised  arms,  and 
easily  handcuffed  him.  The  soldiers  meanwhile 
had  thronged  into  the  cavern.  The  robber 
thus  was  dragged  to  St.  Nicholas  before  the 
court-martial.  He  owned  all  his  deeds,  but 
sent  a  message  to  the  King:  u  That  for  a  free 
pardon  Yanoshik  would  furnish  three  regiments 
to  fight  the  enemies  of  King  Ferdinand.'7  The 
gentlemen  of  the  county,  however,  did  not  wait 
for  the  answer ;  they  convicted  the  robber  and 
sentenced  him  to  be  hanged  up  with  an  iron 


64  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

hook  between  his  ribs.  Thus  he  hung  three 
days  and  three  nights  without  uttering  a  com- 
plaint. He  smoked  one  pipe  after  the  other, 
until  at  last  exhausted  by  the  loss  of  blood,  he 
breathed  his  last. 

He  had  just  expired  when  the  pardon  arrived 
from  Vienna.  But  the  King,  displeased  at  the 
gentlemen  of  Lipto,  who  had  not  "awaited  the 
answer,  condemned  them  to  lose  their  privilege 
of  being  free  from  taxation,  and  to  pay  annually 
four-pence  to  the  hospital  of  St.  Nicholas. 

To  students  of  northern  mythology,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  axe  of  Yanoshik  is  identical 
with  the  Miollner,  the  battle-hammer  of  Thor, 
which  always  returned  into  his  hand,  when  he 
had  flung  it  away,  and  whose  strength,  as  with 
the  Sclavonic  robber,  was  bound  to  his  belt,  and 
who  was  not  overpowered  by  the  giants  until 
they  had  stolen  his  belt.  It  therefore  seems, 
that  this  tale,  though  transferred  to  a  more 
recent  period,  dates  from  the  most  remote  times, 
and  has  undergone  many  modifications  before 
adopting  its  present  shape. 


THE  FEEE  SHOT. 

IN  the  valleys  of  the  Carpathians  we  often 
meet  with  lakes  of  immeasurable  depth.  Through 
these  lonely  pools  no  springs  visibly  gargle  up ; 
from  them  no  living  rivulets  emerge.  The  lake 
fc  is  silent  as  its  surrounding  dale :  and  did  not  the 
sun's  heat  draw  off  the  waters  in  copious  steam, 
they  would  inundate  the  narrow  meadow,  by 
which  they  are  bordered  on  one  side,  or  the 
strong  walls  of  rock  against  which  they  splash 
with  monotonous  uniformity. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  neighbourhood  believe 
the  lakes  to  be  connected  with  the  distant  Baltic, 
which,  it  is  said,  regulates  their  movements; 


I 

66  POPULAR   TALES    OF  HUNGARY. 

and  for  this  reason  call  them  the  *'  Eyes  of  the 
Sea." 

When  the  lakes  are  troubled,  the  people  say  : 
"  There  is  surely  a  great  storm  at  sea!"  Tra- 
dition goes  from  father  to  son,  that  fragments 
of  vessels  and  wares,  swallowed  up  by  the  wide 
ocean,  thousands  and  thousands  of  miles  off, 
have  been  cast  ashore  at  the  lakes.  The  stern 
cliffs  by  which  they  are  encircled,  the  limpid- 
ness  of  their  emerald  waters,  their  mysterious 
depth,  the  difficulty  of  approaching  them;  all 
.spread  a  mythical  charm 'over  the  "Eyes  of 
the  Sea,"  and  connect  with  them  many  a  curious 
tale.  One  of  these  is  the  following : 

At  the  clear  green  lake,  near  the  summit  of 
Lomnicz,  even  the  dark  vegetation  of  the  fir-, 
tree  has  already  failed.  Scanty  mountain-pines 
and  mosses  might  seem  to  be  the  sole  representa- 
tives of  the  magnificent  family  of  plants,  did  not 
the  maidenly  Alpine-rose,  that  lovely  companion 
of  the  chamois,  here  and  there  soften  the  wild 
prospect.  No  humming  of  beetles,  no  warbling 
of  birds  there  lulls  stern  Nature  to  repose  ;  but 


THE   FREE  SHOT.  67 

rocks  tower  to  the  skies,  and  frown  upon  the 
earth. 

*  Barren,  however,  as  were  those  regions,  they 
were  beautiful  with  a  purple  light,  which  soft- 
ened the  edge  of  the  rugged  rock,  and  shed 
mild  brilliance  over  the  dreariest  mountain  side, 
even  when  the  sun  had  disappeared.  The 
blush  of  the  sky,  moreover,  was  the  more  en- 
chanting, from  its  contrast  to  the  deep  green 
tinge  in  the  transparent  waters  of  the  "  Eye  of 
the  Sea." 

The  cause  of  this  heavenly  beauty  was  no 
secret  to  the  Karpathian  peasants.  They  knew 
that  on  the  brow  of  a  precipice,  which  almost 
reached  to  the  level  of  eternal  snow,  a  CAR- 
BUNCLE  lay,  imbibing  all  day  long  the  sun's 
unveiled  glances,  and  radiating  them  forth  again 
at  night  on  the  whole  country  around. 

This  wonderful  stone  was  so  magnificent,  that 
its  renown  necessarity  spread  all  over  the  world. 
Many  a  King  had  heard  of  it,  and  promised 
half  a  kingdom  to  him  who  would  lay  the  cele- 
brated gem  on  the  steps  of  the  throne. 


68  POPULAR  TALES  OF    HUNGARY. 

The  prospect  of  such  a  reward  excited  more 
than  one  fearless  man  to  the  enterprize,  but  in 
vain.  Like  polished  marble,  the  rock  offered  ifo 
projection  to  the  ascending  foot.  ISTo  one  could 
approach  the  shining  jewel,  which  lay  aloft, 
beyond  the  flight  of  the  arrow,  or  of  the  eagle. 
Its  purple  rays  continued  to  illumine  the  lovely 
nights  of  the  unpeopled  valley,  as  if  it  disdained 
the  palaces  of  Kings;  and  every  attempt  to 
reach  it  failed. 

A  sportsman  had  for  years  and  years  longed 
to  climb  up  to  this  virgin  summit.  He  vied 
with  the  chamois,  and  even  surpassed  its  danger- 
despising  alertness,  but  remained  ever  far  from 
his  aim.  At  last  he  resolved  to  try  with  his 
rifle  to  win  the  treasure  he  was  unable  to 
grasp.  He  chose  to  expose  the  precious 
stone  to  be  scattered  in  pieces,  rather  than 
renounce  its  possession ;  for  he  knew  that  every 
fragment  of  it  would  prove  of  priceless  worth. 
But  his  new  mode  of  attack  had  no  better  suc- 
cess than  before :  his  balls  rebounded  from  the 
rock,  and  fell  flattened  to  the  ground;  none 


THE   FKEE   SHOT.  69 

attained  to  the  height  of  the  Carbuncle.     But 
the  heart  of  the  .sportsman  was  bent  upon  his 
purpose.     He  would  not  recede,   and  pledged 
his  soul  to  the  Demon  for  a  "Free  Shot."* 
At  dusk  he  hastened  to  the  lake.    His  sight 

*  The  "  Free  Shot"  is  a  tradition  well-known  by  Ger- 
man and  Hungarian  sportsmen.  The  devil,  called  upon  by 
the  sportsman,  grants  to  him  six  balls,  which  cannot  fail 
their  aim,  but  the  seventh  ball  belongs  to  the  devil,  and  he 
directs  it  according  to  his  own  choice.  This  tale  has  been 
rendered  more  generally  popular  by  Carl  M.  Weber's  well- 
known  opera,  "  Der  Freischiitz." 

I  recollect  to  have  heard  in  the  county  of  Saros,  that 
a  forester  of  the  family  of  Ketzer  performed,  at  mid- 
night, the  ceremonies  of  the  invocation  for  a  "  Free 
Shot."  Horrified  by  the  apparition  of  ghostly  sights, 
he  reeled  beyond  the  magic  circle,  which  he  had  traced 
around  him  for  protection.  In  the  very  same  instant 
all  the  hair  was  rent  from  his  head,  and  he  returned 
home  entirely  bald;  for  two  whole  days  he  speechlessly 
looked  up  the  chimney,  in  hopes  to  discover  his  hair, 
as  he  well  knew  that  if  the  devil  had  caught  hold  of  a 
single  hair,  he  had  no  longer  a  chance  of  escaping.  On  the 
third  day,  when  he  was  just  ready  to  blow  out  his  brains, 
he  examined  his  rifle,  and  to  his  great  satisfaction,  found 
his  whole  wig  in  the  barrel. 


70  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY, 

was  dazzled  by  the  golden  twilight  around.  He 
trembled  as  he  drew  the  trigger,  yet  his  aim 
could  not  fail. 

The  ball  precisely  hit  the  point  in  which  the 
gem  was  joined  to  the  rock ;  but  the  power  of 
the  shot  was  too  great.  It  severed  the  car- 
buncle from  the  granite,  but  instead  of  precipi- 
tating it  on  to  the  meadow,  which  lay  between 
the  rock  and  the  water,  hurled  it  into  the  waves 
of  the  bottomless  lake. 

Hereupon  the  "Bye  of  the  Sea"  grew  dark, 
and  since  that  time  it  reflects  only  the  barren 
rock,  being  no  longer  brightened  by  the  car- 
buncle. The  secluded  dale  is  disturbed  no  more 
by  the  cupidity  of  men,  for  its  treasure  has 
vanished. 


THE  GOLDEN  CEOSS  OF  KOKOSFO. 

K&ROSFO  had  grown  tlie  ricliest  village  in  the 
county  of  Saros.  The  gold  and  silver  mines 
of  the  neighbourhood  yielded  such  splendid 
revenues,  that  every  inhabitant  of  the  village 
possessed  a  polished  chest.  Eight  oxen,  and 
four  horses,  stood  in  every  stable.  The  sheep- 
skin of  the  peasant  was  fastened  with  golden 
hooks.  The  buttons  of  his  blue  jacket  were  of 
the  purest  silver.  Golden  spurs  clanked  on  his 
boots.  The  large  linen  sleeves  of  the  youngsters 
were  trimmed  with  precious  laces.  The  maidens 
adorned  themselves  with  silver  wreaths.  The 
women  wore  golden  caps.  Silver  spoons  and 


72  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

plates  glistened  on  the  shelves  of  their  kitchens : 
they  drank  their  imperial  Tokay  in  golden  cups. 
The  blessing  of  Heaven  thus  richly  manifested 
itself  upon  the  peasants  of  Korosfo.  But  they 
likewise  proved  deserving;  for  the  treasures 
they  won  in  the  sweat  of  their  brows  were 
employed  to  the  benefit  of  their  brethren.  No 
beggar  was  seen  in  the  whole  neighbourhood. 
Whoever  wanted  work,  got  profitable  labour ; 
and  whoever  proved  unequal  to  it,  was  placed 
in  the  hospital,  and  was'  nursed  with  provident 
care. 

Eaising  a  worthy  monument  of  their  thanks- 
giving to  the  Dispenser  of  all  bounties,  they 
erected  a  large  stone  church,  and  on  its  steeple 
they  placed  a  globe  of  beaten  gold,  so  large 
that  a  quarter  of  wheat  would  hardly  have  filled 
it;  and  upon  the  globe  they  fixed  a  cross  of 
massive  gold,  two  fathoms  high.  One  duty, 
however,  had  escaped  their  attention — regard 
for  the  education  of  their  children.  It  is  true 
that  they  got  them  the  most  costly  teachers  of 
languages  and  philosophy,  of  dancing  and 


THE   GOLDEN   CBOSS.  73 

music.  The  boys  and  girls  knew  every  plant, 
from  the  cedar  to  the  hyssop ;  but  they  were 
not  taught  to  work.  The  generation  which  had 
explored  the  lucrative  mines  died  away,  and 
their  descendants  had  only  learnt  to  enjoy,  not 
to  earn.  They  grew  luxurious  and  selfish  :  loud 
songs  and  merry  fiddles  deafened  the  ear  to 
every  other  interest ;  feasting  went  on  from 
morning  to  night.  Beggars  hovered  round  the 
houses  of  the  wealthy,  desiring  to  be  fed  with 
the  crumbs  which  fell  from  the  rich  man's 
table.  But  it  was  not  a  tender  care  for  less 
fortunate  brethren  that  conceded  this  help  to 
the  poor ;  it  was  the  selfish  motive  "  to  get  rid 
of  the  beggar,"  which  granted  momentary  sup- 
port, and  neglected  the  supply  of  lasting  wants. 
The  number  of  claims  increased  daily,  and 
many  a  pang  of  widowed  hearts  remained  un- 
soothed,  whilst  parasites  thronged  to  the  hos- 
pitable tables  of  the  rich  peasants  of  Korosfo, 
who,  no  longer  satisfied  with  the  pork  and  beef, 
the  veal  and  poultry  of  their  own  yards,  and 

with  wheaten  bread  and  wine  grown  in  their 
4 


74  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGAKY. 

fields,  purchased  delicacies  fetched  from  the 
towns.  One  family  vied  with  another.  Every 
one  found  willing  flatterers,  who  occasioned  dis- 
putes and  hatred. 

As  none  of  the  inhabitants  worked  during 
the  week,  none  of  them  felt  the  blessing  of 
Sunday's  repose,  which  leads  to  the  grateful 
attendance  on  divine  service.  The  church  soon 
remained  deserted,  and  nobody  listened  to  the 
earnest  sermons  of  the  old  clergyman;  and 
when  he  died,  the  peasants  resolved  to  elect  no 
more  preachers,  but  to  turn  the  empty  church 
into  a  dancing-hall,  which  they  found  indis- 
pensable, as  their  rooms  were  not  spacious 
enough  for  their  entertainments. 

The  next  Friday  was  fixed  upon  for  a  bril- 
liant ball,  by  which  the  sacred  building  was 
to  be  inaugurated  for  its  new  service.  It 
struck  no  one  that  the  appointed  day  was  Good 
Friday :  Christian  holidays  had  long  escaped 
minds  occupied  with  worldly  concerns  alone. 
Men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  all  met  in 
their  most  costly  apparel  in  the  church,  which 


THE   GOLDEN   CKOSS.  75 

was  now  the  new  dancing-liall.  Instead  of  the 
solemnly  touching  sounds  of  the  organ,  the  wild 
strains  of  the  fiddling  gipsy-band  were  to  be  heard. 
Unruly  crowds  elbowed  through  the  nave, 
giddy  pairs  whirled  around,  peals  of  laughter 
were  heard,  and  the  dinner-bell  was  calling  to 
abundant  feasts.  But  a  tremendous  thunder- 
clap suddenly  interrupted  the  enjoyment;  it 
grew  dark  ;  the  earth  burst  asunder,  and  swal- 
lowed up  the  corrupt  village  with  all  its 
graceless  inhabitants. 

Centuries  have  passed  since  the  catastrophe. 
The  gold  and  silver-mines  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Korosfo  have  disappeared ;  a  poor  village 
marks  the  place,  where  the  wealthy  community 
once  resided  in  forgetful  luxury.  But  on  Good 
Friday,  whilst  throughout  all  Catholic  Christen- 
dom every  church-bell  is  silent,  and  the  rattling 
woodclapper  alone  calls  to  prayer,  ringing  of 
bells  is  to  be  heard  here,  rising  from  the 
depths  of  the  earth.  These  lugubrious  sounds 
are  sometimes  mingled  with  terrific  shrieks, 


76  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

such,   as   escape   the   human  breast   when  con- 
vulsed by  fright. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  village  regularly  on 
that  day  go  to  the  heath,  and  notice  the  spot 
where  these  sounds  are  most  distinctly  heard. 
On  the  next  following  work-day,,  they  then  dig 
the  ground  to  find  the  golden  cross,  and  the 
golden  globe  of  the  tower,  which  sank  into  the 
depth ;  but  every  research,  has  hitherto  proved 
fruitless.  Once,  it  is  true,  the  treasure  was 
detected,  but  only  to  be  lost  again. 

It  was  noon.  The  herdsman  of  Korosfo  sat 
on  the  pasture-ground,  at  the  fire  which  he  kept 
up  from  the  heaps  of  brushwood.  On  a 
pointed  stick  he  turned  a  piece  of  bacon  about, 
tossing  it  over  the  flame,  and  dripping  the 
grease  down  on  a  slice  of  bread,  sprinkled  with 
salt,  whilst  savoury  potatoes  were  baking  in  the 
glimmering  ashes.  The  sheep  and  lambs  grazed 
here  and  there,  and  basked  in  the  sun,  when  sud- 
denly the  dog,  drawing  up  his  hind  foot, 
hobbled  with  loud  yelps  to  his  master's  side. 


THE   GOLDEN   CROSS.  77 

The  shepherd  examined  his  faithful  attendant, 
and  saw  that  the  paw  was  wounded.  Ho 
had  ended  his  meal,  so  he  took  a  draught  of 
wine  from  his  wooden-bottle,  and  then  followed 
the  traces  of  blood  to  find  out  where,  and  by 
what,  the  animal  had  been  so  sharply  hurt. 

To  his  great  surprise  he  beheld  a  yellow 
point,  peeping  out  from  the  meadow !  there 
could  be  no  doubt  he  had  discovered  the  long- 
sought  for  golden  cross.  His  first  thought 
was  to  keep  the  treasure  to  himself  alone ;  to 
dig  it  out  by  degrees,  and  to  lift  it  piece  by 
piece.  He  ardently  set  to  work,  and  though  he 
had  no  other  tools  than  his  hands  and  a  pocket- 
knife,  he,  with  the  greatest  energy,  laid  bare 
a  considerable  part  of  the  cross.  When  the 
evening  came  on,  he  had  scratched  off  no  less 
than  two  spans'  deep  of  the  hard  earth;  and 
the  gold  sparkled  as  bright  as  the  edge  of  the 
cloud  behind  which  the  sun  was  just  setting. 
But  the  strength  of  the  shepherd  proved  in- 
sufficient to  break  even  the  smallest  particle 
from  the  cross.  He  became  aware  that  it  was 


78  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

impossible  for  Mm  alone  to  raise  tlie  treasure. 
So  lie  hid  the  golden  point  with  hay  and  dry 
leaves  to  mark  the  spot  where  it  was,  and 
hastened  to  the  village  with  the  tidings  that  he 
had  discovered  the  golden  steeple. 

Though  night  had  come  on,  the  inhabitants 
took  lanterns  and  torches  in  hand  ;  and,  armed 
with  spades  and  hatchets,  hastened  to  the  pas- 
ture-ground. They  had  seen  that  the  dog  was 
lame,  and  therefore  could  not  doubt  that  he 
had  pierced  himself  by  the  golden  point.  But 
when  they  came  to  the  meadow,  the  shepherd 
could  no  longer  ascertain  the  spot  where  the 
cross  had  appeared.  Dispersed  hay  and  dry 
leaves  were  scattered  over  the  heath,  but 
nothing  else  could  be  found.  The  peasants 
returned  home.  On  the  subsequent  day  they 
came  again  to  renew  the  anxious  search ;  the 
whole  turf  was  turned  up,  yet  the  steeple  could 
not  be  traced.  The  shepherd  certainly  had 
seen  it,  but  it  had  disappeared  for  ever. 


THE   GUAKDIANS. 

A  JEWISH  LEGEND. 

GOD  created  man  and  formed  his  body  gigan- 
tic in  length  and  in  breadth,  and  wove  for  him 
a  garment  of  the  light  of  heaven,  so  that  it 
shone  from  sunrise  to  sunset;  and  gave  him 
dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea  and  over 
the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  over  every  living  thing 
that  moveth  upon  the  earth.  And  when  the 
creatures  beheld  man,  they  trembled  before  him, 
and  believed  him  to  be  the  Creator,  and  ap- 
proached him  to  worship  him,  because  he  stood 
upright  on  his  feet,  and  was  created  in  the 
image  of  Grod.  But  the  man  said  unto  them : 


80  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

"You  come  to  worship  me?  Forbear:  let  us 
clothe  ourselves  in  power  and  glory,  and  elect 
him  as  our  King  who  has  created  us ;  for  the 
people  will  do  well  to  serve  a  King,  but  no  King 
can  set  up  himself,  if  the  people  do  not  elect 
him." 

And  Adam  went  and  served  the  Lord  God 
as  his  King,  and  all  creatures  followed  him. 

And  Jehovah  rejoiced  at  the  obedience  of  the 
man,  and  spake  unto  the  angels,  saying :  "  Go 
ye  down  from  your  stars,  stand  around  the  man, 
and  serve  him.'7 

And  the  angels  came  down  from  their  stars, 
and  served  the  man,  and  returned  again  unto 
heaven,  and  praised  the  Lord  that  he  had  created 
the  man. 

But  the  man  was  created  with  free  choice, 
and  in  his  breast  lived,  besides  good  desires,  a 
propensity  to  bad ;  at  first,  thin  as  a  cobweb, 
but  the  man  did  not  resist  it,  and  it  grew  strong 
as  a  cable.  And  the  man  sinned,  and  was 
driven  out  from  the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  lost 
the  length  and  the  breadth  of  his  body,  and 


THE   GUARDIANS.  81 

his  radiant  garment  fell  from  him,  and  the  skins 
of  the  wild  beasts  now  clothed  the  naked  man, 
and  he  lost  his  dominion  over  creation. 

And  when  the  angels  saw  that  he  who  had 
once  been  so  glorious  now  tilled  the  ground 
which  brought  forth  thousands  of  thistles,  and 
ate  his  bread  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  Sham- 
hazai  and  Azael,  the  first  of  the  guardians, 
approached  the  throne  of  the  Lord,  and  asked : 
"  Why  hast  thou  created  him  who  has  provoked 
thy  wrath  ?  Why  didst  thou  give  him  the  do- 
minion over  creation,  who  did  not  know  how  to 
preserve  his  dominion  ?  Why  hast  thou  com- 
manded us  to  go  down  unto  him  and  to  serve 
him  who  is  more  miserable  than  the  worm  that 
creeps  upon  the  earth?" 

And  the  Lord  said,  and  spoke  unto  them: 
"Go  ye  also  down  to  the  earth,  and  ye  will 
sin  as  he  hath  sinned." 

And  the  guardians  went  down  unto  the  earth, 

in  number  two  hundred,  in  the  days  of  lared, 

to   the   Mount   Hermon,   when   men   began   to 

multiply  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  daughters 

4* 


82  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

were  born  unto  them.  And.  the  sons  of  God 
saw  the  daughters  of  men,  that  they  were  fair, 
and  they  were  smitten  with  love  to  them,  and 
dallied  with  them.  But  they  knew  that  when 
an  angel  remains  seven  days  upon  earth,  his 
form  attracts  to  it  that  which  is  earthly,  until 
he  himself  becomes  earthly,  so  that  he  can,  no 
more  soar  unto  heaven ;  but  his  star  wanes, 
and  a  mist  bedims  its  glance. 

When  now  the  first  evening  twinkled  for 
them  upon  earth,  they  looked  up  and  said : 
"  Our  stars  still  shine  in  silver  purity,  let  us 
remain  one  day  more ;"  and  they  remained  the 
second  day  with  the  daughters  of  men :  and 
when  the  evening  came  the  earthly  husk  which, 
they  had  attracted  formed  transparent  bodies  for 
tliem,  and  the  daughters  of  men  rejoiced  that 
they  could  see  the  angels  who  until  now  had 
moved  bodiless  around  them.  And  the  angels 
looked  up  again,  and  said :  "  Our  stars  still 
shine  with  golden  light,  let  us  remain  one  day 
more ;"  and  they  remained  the  third  day,  and 
their  bodies  grew  more  compact  and  more  like 


THE   GUARDIANS.  83 

the  bodies  of  men,  and  the  daughters  of  men 
rejoiced  that  they  were  becoming  more  like  to 
them. 

From  night  to  night  the  ray  of  the  two 
hundred  stars  turned  redder  and  less  pure ;  they 
were  surrounded  by  a  murky  halo,  and  the 
angels  grew  daily  more  fleshly,  and  the  love  of 
the  daughters  of  men  more  glowing.  So  when 
the  seventh  evening  came  on,  the  guardians 
remembered  the  words  of  the  Lord,  and  wished 
to  fly  back  to  their  stars,  and  to  forsake  the 
daughters  of  men  who  wept  and  clung  to  them. 

But  they  could  no  longer  soar  up ;  for  their 
bodies  stuck  to  the  ground  with  leaden  weight, 
and  they  could  not  return  to  their  stars,  now 
dim.  The  daughters  of  men  rejoiced;  but  the 
guardians  did  not  humble  themselves  before  the 
Lord,  when  they  saw  that  they  could  no  longer 
leave  earth  ;  and  disregarding  His  sacred  decree, 
they  were  seized  with  wrath  against  men,  as  if 
it  were  to  these,  not  to  their  own  pride,  that  they 
ascribed  their  fate.  And  their  sons  became 
mighty  men  which  were  of  old,  men  of  renown, 


84  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGAKY. 

and  declared  war  against  one  another  and 
against  mankind,  and  collected  hosts  with  which 
they  joined  in  bloody  battles ;  and  thousands  and 
thousands  of  men  bled  for  the  renown  and  the 
rapaciousness  of  the  mighty  ones.  Thus  they 
continued  and  do  continue  the  work  of  destruc- 
tion until  the  day  of  retribution — the  Day  of 
Judgment,  when  time  stall  be  closed,  and  every 
earthly  thing  shall  cease. 

But  as  for  the  guardians,  Jehovah  commanded 
them  to  be  bound  by  Eaphael,  both  hand  and 
foot,  and  to  be  thrown  into  the  bottomless  pit. 
He  opened  the  wilderness  in  Dadael,  and  exiled 
them  thereto ;  and  on  the  great  Day  of  Judgment 
will  judge  them  and  cast  them  into  the  eternal 
fire  of  the  Gehenna. 


THE  LOVE  OF  THE  ANGELS. 

THE  tradition  of  tlie  Angels'  love  is  not 
confined  to  the  ancient  world ;  we  meet  a 
similar  legend  with  the  Objibway  savages  in 
North  America.  But  in  the  new  world  the 
legend  is  nothing  more  than  the  sport  of  ima- 
gination, without  the  moral  weight  giving 
additional  charm  to  the  Jewish  and  Persian 
tale. 

The  Objibway  Chief,  Kahgega  Gahbowh, 
relates  in  the  traditional  history  of  his  nation  : 

"  There  was  once  a  time  when  this  world 
was  filled  with  happy  people,  when  all  nations 
were  as  one,  and  the  crimson  tide  of  war  had 


86  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

not  begun  to  roll.  Plenty  of  game  was  in  tlie 
forest,  and  on  tlie  plains.  None  were  in  want, 
for  a  supply  was  at  hand.  Sickness  was  un- 
known. The  beasts  of  the  field  were  tame, 
and  they  came  and  went  at  the  bidding  of  man. 
One  unending  spring  gave  no  place  for  winter 
• — for  its  cold  blasts,  or  its  unhealthy  chills. 
Every  tree  and  bush  yielded  fruit. 

"  Flowers  carpeted  the  earth  ;  the  air  was 
laden  with  their  fragrance,  and  redolent  with 
the  songs  of  the  myriad  warblers  that  flew  from 
branch  to  branch,  fearing  none,  for  there  was 
none  to  harm  them.  There  were  birds  then 
of  more  beautiful  song  and  plumage  than 
now. 

"  It  was  at  such  a  time,  when  earth  was  a 
paradise,  and  man  worthily  its  possessor,  that 
the  Indians  were  the  lone  inhabitants  of  the 
American  wilderness. 

They  numbered  millions,  and,  living  as 
Nature  designed  them  to  live,  enjoyed  its  many 
blessings.  Instead  of  amusements  in  close 
rooms,  the  sports  of  the  field  were  theirs.  At 


LOVE   OF  THE  ANGELS.  87 

night  they  met  on  the  wide  green  fields.  They 
watched  the  stars ;  they  loved  to  gaze  at  them, 
for  they  believed  them  to  be  the  residences  of 
the  good  who  had  been  taken  home  by  the 
Great  Spirit. 

"  One  night  they  saw  one  star  that  shone 
brighter  than  all  others.  Its  location  was 
far  away  in  the  south  near  a  mountain  peak. 
For  many  nights  it  was  seen,  till  at  length  it 
was  doubted  by  many  that  the  star  was  as  far 
distant  in  the  southern  skies  as  it  seemed  to  be. 
This  doubt  led  to  an  examination,  which  proved 
the  star  to  be  only  a  short  distance,  and  near 
the  tops  of  some  trees. 

"  A  number  of  warriors  were  deputed  to  go 
and  see  what  it  was.  They  went,  and  on  their 
return  said  it  appeared  strange,  and  somewhat 
like  a  bird.  A  committee  of  the  wise  men 
were  called  to  inquire  into  it,  and  if  possible, 
ascertain  the  meaning  of  the  strange  pheno- 
menon. 

1  i  They  feared  that  it  might  be  the  omen  of 
some  disaster.  Some  thought  it  the  precursor 


88  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

of  good,  others  of  evil,  and  some  supposed  it  to 
be  the  star  spoken  of  by  their  forefathers  as  the 
forerunner  of  a  dreadful  war. 

"  One  moon  had  nearly  gone  by,  and  yet 
the  mystery  remained  unsolved. 

"  One  night  a  young  warrior  had  a  dream, 
in  which  a  beautiful  maiden  came  and  stood 
at  his  side,  and  thus  addressed  him : 

"  l  Young  brave !  charmed  with  the  land  of 
thy  forefathers,  its  flowers,  its  birds,  its  rivers, 
its  beautiful  lakes,  and  mountains  clothed  with 
green,  I  have  left  my  sisters  in  yonder  world  to 
dwell  among  you.  Young  brave !  ask  your 
wise  and  great  men  where  I  can  live  and  see 
the  happy  race  continually ;  ask  them  what 
form  I  shall  assume  in  order  to  be  loved.7 

"Thus  discoursed  the  bright  stranger.  The 
young  man  awoke.  On  stepping  out  of  his 
lodge,  he  saw  the  star  yet  blazing  in  its  accus- 
tomed place* 

"At  early  dawn  the  chief's  crier  was  sent 
round  the  camp  to  call  every  warrior  to  the 
conncil-lodge.  When  they  had  met,  the  young 


LOVE   OF   THE   ANGELS.  89 

warrior  related  his  dream.  They  concluded 
that  the  star  that  had  been  seen  in  the  south 
had  fallen  in  love  with  mankind,  and  that  it 
was  desirous  to  dwell  with  them. 

"The  next  night  five  tall,  noble-looking, 
adventurous  braves  were  sent  to  welcome  the 
stranger  to  earth. 

"  They  went  and  presented  to  it  a  pipe  of 
peace,  filled  with  sweet-scented  herbs,  and  were 
rejoiced  to  find  it  took  it  from  them.  As  they 
returned  to  the  village,  the  star  with  expanded 
wing  followed,  and  hovered  over  their  homes 
till  the  dawn  of  day. 

1  i Again  it  came  to  the  young  man  in  a 
dream,  and  desired  to  know  where  it  should 
live,  and  what  form  it  should  take. 

"  Places  were  named.  On  the  top  of  giant 
trees,  or  in  flowers.  At  length  it  was  told  to 
choose  a  place  itself,  and  it  did  so. 

"  At  first  it  dwelt  in  the  white  rose  of  the 
mountains :  but  there  it  was  so  buried  that 
it  could  not  be  seen.  It  went  to  the  prairie,  but 
it  feared  the  hoof  of  the  buffalo.  It  next 


90  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

sought  the  rocky  cliff,  but  there  it  was  so  high 
that  the  children  whom  it  loved  most  could  not 
see  it. 

"  1 1  know  where  I  shall  live,'  said  the  bright 
fugitive;  '  where  I  can  see  the  gliding  canoe  of 
the  race  I  most  admire;  Children !  yes,  they 
shall  be  my  playmates,  and  I  will  kiss  their 
brows  when  they  slumber  by  the  side  of  cool 
lakes.  The  nations  shall  love  me  wherever  I 
am.' 

"  These  words  having  been  said,  she  alighted 
on  the  waters  where  she  saw  herself  reflected. 
The  next  morning,  thousands  of  white  flowers 
were  seen  on  the  surface  of  the  lakes,  and  the 
Indians  gave  them  this  name,  i  Wah-le-gwon- 
nej  (White  Lily). 


THE  MAID  AND  THE  GENII. 

THE  rabbinical  tradition  of  Shamhazai  and 
Azael  is  not  only  to  be  met  with  amongst  the 
Jews  in  Hungary  ;  founded  on  a  passage  of  the 
Genesis,*  it  is  spread  as  far  as  the  Talmud, 
from  which  it  is  derived,  and  its  poetical  beauty 
has  made  it  popular  in  a  still  wider  sphere,  as  is 
obvious  by  the  Persian  tale  of  Anahid.  This 
bears  so  striking  a  relation  to  our  rabbinical 
tradition,  that  we  are  induced  to  add  it  here,  as 
illustrative  of  the  different  conception  of  Persian 
and  Jewish  genius.f 

*  Genesis  vi.  1 — 4. 

t  A  Persian  tradition  may  find  its  place  amongst 
Hungarian  ones  with  so  much  more  reason,  as  the 


92  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Anahid  was  the  most  beautiful  of  the  virgins 
of  Iran :  her  beauty  was  the  expression  of  her 
soul.  Harmonious  in  her  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, harmonious  in  her  countenance  and  move- 
ments, she  instinctively  was  attracted  by  the 
charms  of  her  lyre,  whose  strings  vibrated  under 
her  fingers  with  the  expression  of  most  perfect 
serenity.  Her  accords  soothed  the  passions 
which  were  awakened  by  her  virgin  loveliness. 
Conscious  that  her  beauty  was  no  merit,  she 
charmed  every  one  who  approached  her;  she 

Hungarians,  a  "  Scythian"  people,  seem  anciently  to 
have  inhabited  the  frontiers  of  Persia.  The  name 
of  Ahriman,  the  god  of  evil  to  the  ancient  Persians, 
remains  to  these  days  with  its  primitive  signification  in 
the  Hungarian  language,  Armany  being  still  the  term 
for  intrigue  and  base  treachery.  The  name  of  the 
god  Ormuzd,  is  also  to  be  found  in  Hungary  connected 
with  the  names  of  places  and  families,  but  without  any 
other  signification.  The  root  of  this  word  in  Hungarian 
is  "  Orom,"  the  high  place,  which  reminds  us  that  the 
Persians  worshipped  Ormuzd  on  the  heights.  The  Hun- 
garian expression  for  God,  "  Isten,"  is  evidently  Persian,  as 
Yezdan  is  a  surname  of  Ormudz. 


THE   MAID   AND   THE   GENII.  93 

was  happy  to  spread  joy  and  felicity  around, 
and  the  calm  of  her  heart  remained  undisturbed. 
Her  praise  was  soon  sounded  all  over  Iran, 
and  it  reached  even  the  dwellings  of  the  blessed. 
Those  who  once  had  beheld  her  could  never  again 
forget  her.  Even  after  death,  when,  in  the 
arms  of  the  Hoories,  in  the  Garden  of  Eden, 
they  lost  the  remembrance  of  all.  troubles  and 
all  joys  of  earth,  they  still  remembered  the 
virgin  of  Iran,  whose  virtues  resisted  every 
temptation — so  her  name  was  glorified  amongst 
the  blessed.  At  this  the  Hoories  grew  dis- 
pleased and  jealous.  A  damsel  of  earth,  dust- 
born  like  other  mortals,  was  to  enjoy  the  privi- 
lege of  the  blessed  spirits,  untroubled  happiness, 
already  in  earthly  life ! 

Harut  and  Marut,  the  genii  of  the  winds  and 
the  waves,  offered  to  descend  unto  earth  to  lead 
Anahid  into  temptation,  and  to  prove  that  she 
was  not  more  perfect  than  her  sisters,  and  that 
she  could  stumble  like  them. 

They  presented  themselves  before  the  Angel, 
who  with  the  flaming  sword  guards  the  gates 


94  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

of  Paradise,  and  requested  permission  to  pass. 
He  said  with,  a  melancholy  smile :  "  Do  ac- 
cording to  your  wish.;  the  mysterious  name  of 
the  Almighty  ever  opens  the  gates  of  Paradise 
to  you;  but  beware,  that  if  you  pronounce 
that  sacred  name  but  once  to  human  ears,  you 
forget  it  irretrievably,  and  my  flaming  sword  then 
prohibits  your  ingress." 

But  the  genii  laughed,  and  said :  "  For 
him  wlio  has  once  tasted  tlie  blessings  of  Para* 
dise,  earth  can  afford  no  such,  inducement, 
that  for  its  sake  he  should  forego  return  to 
heaven." 

The  Angel  opened  the  gate,  and  on  the  dewy 
wings  of  the  evening  breeze  they  descended  to 
earth. 

In  the  shape  of  foreign  merchants  they  ap- 
proached the  fair  maiden,  and  said  that  her 
renown  had  led  them  to  Iran  from  the  borders 
of  Kathay,  and  from  the  isles  Wak-Wak,  and 
they  offered  her  the  treasures  of  their  distant 
homes. 

But  neither  the  flattering  words,  nor  the  gifts 


THE   MAID  AND  THE   GENII.  95 

of  the  handsome  strangers,  made  impression  on 
Anahid.  She  greeted  them  kindly  as  guests, 
and  entertained  them  according  as  the  law  com- 
mands that  guests  should  be  greeted  and  enter- 
tained. Yet  her  charms  acted  powerfully  on 
Harut  and  Marut;  glowing  emotions  disturbed 
their  breasts,  and  they  felt  that  the  tunes  of  her 
lyre  alone  could  tame  the  storm  and  calm  the 
flood  of  her  passion.  They  exerted  all  their 
powers  to  win  the  heart  of  the  virgin  ;  what  they 
had  begun  in  deceitful  sport  had  turned  into 
serious  reality. 

But  Anahid  remained  equally  serene,  and  un- 
impassioned ;  she  did  not  partake  of  the  feel- 
ings she  inspired.  With  the  genii  the  pangs  of 
jealousy  were  added  to  those  of  unreturned  love ; 
they  would  not  believe  that  the  virgin  could  last- 
ingly remain  unmoved  by  the  violence  of  their 
longings ;  but  each  of  them  trembled  lest  his 
companion  should  be  preferred  to  himself.  They, 
therefore,  did  not  leave  each  other  for  a  single 
instant.  They  went  together  to  her,  and  found 


96  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

her  at  the  lyre,  drawing  the  sweetest  melodies 
from  its  strings.  Overwhelmed  by  the  charm 
of  its  tunes,  they  sank  at  her  feet,  confessing 
that  they  were  not  merchants,  but  inhabitants 
of  Paradise,  the  genii  of  the  winds  and 
the  waves;  and  entreated  her  to  choose  be- 
tween them,  and  to  decide  their  fate,  as  the 
temporary  felicity  of  her  love  was  preferable 
to  the  eternal  bliss  of  the  garden  of  Eden. 
Anahid  smiled  incredulously,  and  said  :  "  Fools ! 
do  you  believe  you  deceive  me  with  such 
assertions?  If  you  really  are  those,  whom 
you  pretend  to  be,  you  must  know  the  myste- 
rious name  which  opens  the  gate  of  Paradise, 
and  if  one  of  you  really  loves  me,  he  will  tell 
me  that  name  as  a  token  of  his  affection." 

She  hardly  had  finished,  when  the  genii,  each 
trembling  lest  his  companion  should  anticipate 
him,  pronounced  hastily  the  mysterious  name. 
Anahid  repeated  it,  and  disappeared  from  before 
the  eyes  of  Harut  and  Marut.  "With  the  lyre 
on  her  arms,  she  was  carried  to  heaven,  where 


THE   MAID   AXD   THE*  GENII.  97 

Allah  adorned  her  lofty  brow  with  the  morning 
star,  and  appointed  her  to  lead  the  music  of 
the  spheres,  and  the  dance  of  the  stars. 

The  Genii,  astonished  at  the  maiden 's  disap- 
pearance, desired  to  follow  her,  but  they  had  for- 
gotten the  word  which,  until  now,  had  raised 
them  from  the  ground:  their  power  of  flight 
was  lost ;  they  were  bound  to  the  earth. 

Hereupon  they  remembered  the  words  of 
the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword;  but  it 
was  too  late.  Then  they  felt  the  weight  of 
their  sin,  and  bowed  before  the  decree  of 
Allah;  they  repented,  and  prayed  for  the  de- 
served punishment.  And  God  gave  them  the 
choice  to  expiate  their  wrong  either  in  time  or 
in  eternity ;  so  they  chose  time.  And  Azael, 
the  angel  of  death,  approached  them,  and 
silently  led  them  to  Babylon,  and  tied  them 
with  chains,  and  hung  them  up  there  in  two 
wells,  with  their  heads  below,  and  their  feet 
above  ;  and  he  rolled  a  huge  rock  on  the  mouth 
of  each  of  the  wells,  and  put  on  it  the  seal  of  the 
wise  Suleiman. 


98  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

There  they  hang,  both  Harut  and  Marut, 
in  solitary  darkness  for  thousands  of  years, 
and  expect  the  Day  of  Judgment,  which  is  to 
redeem  them. 

But  the  winds,  and  the  waves,  no  longer 
restrained  and  directed  by  the  Genii,  have  ever 
since  been  unruly  and  stormful  all  over  the 
world. 


ASHMODAI,  THE  LAME  DEMON. 

ACCORDING  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Kabbis, 
God  created  ten  things  on  Friday  in  the  twi- 
light after  the  heavens  and  the  earth  were 
finished:  The  devil,  the  rainbow,  the  manna, 
the  tables  of  the  ten  commandments,  the  rod  of 
Moses,  the  water  from  the  rock,  the  pillar  of 
cloud  that  led  the  people  through  the  wilder- 
ness (such  is  the  strange  doctrine  of  the 
Talmud),  and  the  worm  Shamir,  with  which 
Moses  engraved  the  name  of  Jehovah  on  the 
gems  Urim  and  Thummim. 


100  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

"When  the  wise  Solomon  began  to  build  the 
Temple,  he  required  the  worm  Shamir  to  carve 
the  gems,  but  the  chief  of  the  devils,  Ashmodai, 
alone  could  procure  the  worm,  as  he  only  knew 
where  it  was  to  be  found.  But  how  was  the 
King  to  bring  Ashmodai  within  his  power? 
Solomon  summoned  the  devils,  and  they  con- 
fessed that  Ashmodai  resided  on  a  mountain, 
where  he  had  dug  a  cave,  and  had  filled  it 
with  water,  and  covered  it  with  a  stone,  and  had 
sealed  the  stone.  For  he  goes  every  day  up  to 
Heaven,  and  studies  there  in  the  high  school  of 
Heaven,  and  then  he  comes  down  to  the  earth 
and  learns  in  the  schools  of  men.  And  when 
he  returns,  he  examines  the  seal,  whether  it  is 
damaged ;  then  he  opens  the  cave,  and  drinks 
from  it,  and  covers  it  again  with  the  stone,  and 
seals  it,  and  goes  away. 

King  Solomon,  therefore,  sent  Benaiah,  the 
son  of  Jehoida,  to  the  mountain,  and  provided 
him  with  fetters,  on  which  the  name  of  Jehovah 
was  engraved,  and  with  a  sealing-ring,  also 
bearing  the  name  of  Jehovah,  and  with  a  bale 


THE   LAME   DEMON.  101 

of  wool,  and  two  goat-skins  of  the  best  wine. 
Benaiah  soon  found  the  cave  of  Ashmodai,  and 
made  a  hole  under  it,  by  which  all  the  water 
ran  out;  he  then  stopped  the  hole  with  the 
wool,  and  made  a  hole  above,  and  through  it 
poured  the  wine  into  the  cave.  He  then  stopped 
this  hole  too,  climbed  up  a  tree,  and  waited  the 
result. 

When  Ashmodai  now  came  and  examined 
the  seal,  and  found  it  unimpaired,  he  lifted  the 
stone  from  the  cave.  Things  looked  to  him 
somewhat  suspicious,  but  he  was  thirsty,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  drink ;  so  he  intoxicated 
himself  and  fell  asleep. 

Then  Benaiah  descended  from  the  tree  and 
enchained  the  devil,  and  sealed  the  lock  of  the 
fetters  with  the  name  of  Jehovah. 

When  Ashmodai  awoke,  he  tore  the  chains 
with  rage;  but  Benaiah,  the  son  of  Jehoiada, 
spoke  to  him :  "  The  name  of  thy  Lord  is 
upon  thee ;  the  name-  of  thy  Lord  is  upon 
theel" 


102  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

And  AsTimodai  saw  that  lie  could  not  resist, 
and  gave  himself  up  to  be  led  with  the  chain 
by  Benaiah  ;  but  on  the  way  he  spitefully  over- 
threw everything  he  met — first  a  palm-tree, 
then  a  large  palace,  at  last  the  low  hut  of  a 
poor  widow.  When  he  began  to  upset  this, 
the  poor  woman  entreated  his  mercy,'  and 
Ashmodai  felt  pity  for  her,  and  supported  with 
his  foot  the  walls  already  sinking.  The  hut 
remained  erect,  but  the  devil's  leg  broke,  and 
he  is  lame  ever  since,  as  the  doctors  badly  healed 
the  fracture. 

"When  he  arrived  at  the  court  of  Solomon 
he  was.  kept  waiting  for  two  days,  but  on  the 
third  he  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  the 
King.  And  Ashmodai  took  a  cloth-yard,  and 
measured  four  yards  on  the  ground,  and  said  to 
Solomon : 

"  When  thou  art  dead,  this  and  no  farther  is 
the  whole  length  of  thy  realm.  Such  will  be 
the  extreme  limits  of  'thy  tomb.  And  now, 
when  thou  hast  subdued  the  whole  earth,  thou 


THE   LAME   DEMON.  103 

art  not  satisfied,  but  desirest  to  extend  thy 
conquests  to  the  world  of  spirits,  and  hast 
brought  me  into  thy  power.  Say,  therefore, 
what  now  dost  thou  want  ?" 

Solomon  replied :  "  Nothing  do  I  want 
from  thee,  save  that  thou  get  for  me  the  worm 
Shamir,  which  I  need  for  the  carving  of  the 
Temple." 

"It  is  not  in  my  power,"  replied  Ashmodai ; 
"it  is  with  the  Lord  of  the  Sea,  and  he  gives 
it  to  no  one  but  to  the  woodcock,  who  is  his 
faithful  client,  and  is  bound  to  him  by  an 
oath." 

"  And  what  does  the  woodcock  with  the  worm 
Shamir?" 

"  He  carries  it  into  the  mountains,  where 
grow  neither  trees  nor  grass,  and  breaks  open 
the  rocks,  and  sows  seeds  in  the  clefts,  so  that 
trees  and  grass  shoot  forth ;  therefore  the  wood- 
cock is  likewise  called  Nakkar  Tura,  l  the  sculptor 
of  the  rock.'7' 

Benaiah  was  now  sent  again,  and  he  found 


104  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

the  home  of  the  woodcock,  and  he  covered  with 
a  glass  the  nest  where  the  chickens  of  the  wood- 
cock lay.  And  when  the  woodcock  flew  to  his 
young  ones,  he  could  not  get  to  them  on  account 
of  the  glass.  He  therefore  flew  away,  and 
fetched  the  worm  Shamir  to  burst  the  glass. 

When  the  woodcock  appeared  with  "the  worm 
Shamir,  Benaiah  cried  aloud;  the  frightened 
woodcock  dropped  the  worm  ;  Benaiah  suddenly 
snatched  it  up,  and  carried  it  off  with  him. 
Then  the  woodcock  fell  into  despair  and  hanged 
himself,  because  he  had  broken  his  oath. 

The  King  now  continued  the  erection  of  th& 
Temple,  with  the  aid  of  Shamir,  Ashmodai,  and 
the  other  spirits  subjected  to  Solomon,  for  all 
the  devils  submitted  to  his  commands.  Once 
only  was  he  outwitted,  when  he  had  put  this 
question  to  Ashmodai : 

"  Tell  me  wherein  are  the  devils  more  power- 
ful than  men  if  we,  notwithstanding,  rule  over 
you?" 

The  devil  replied : 


THE   LAME   DEMON.  105 

"  Take  the  fetters  off  my  feet  and  my  hand, 
and  give  me  for  a  moment  thy  ring,  with  the 
awful  name,  and  thou  shalt  see." 

Then  the  King  granted  this  request,  but  no 
sooner  had  he  had  him  unfettered  and  handed 
over  to  him  the  ring,  than  Ashmodai  carried  the 
King  through  the  air  four  hundred  miles  into 
the  wilderness,  and  himself  assumed  the  shape 
of  Solomon,  and  sat  on  his  throne,  and  governed 
the  Jews,  and  no  one  noticed  that  he  was  not 
the  real  Solomon.  But  from  that  time  the 
erection  of  the  temple  was  discontinued,  the 
Rabbis  got  no  more  presents  from  the  King, 
and  they  became  aware  that  the  devil's  hand 
was  in  it.  And  it  came  to  their  minds  that  the 
King  never  permitted  his  shoes  to  be  taken  off 
by  the  chamberlain,  and  they  therefore  strewed 
flour  and  ashes  before  his  bed  on  the  floor,  and 
in  the  morning,  after  the  King  had  got  up,  they 
perceived  the  traces  of  the  devil's  foot.  Seeing 
this,  they  began  to  pray,  and  prayed  until  their 
prayers  recalled  Solomon  from  the  wilderness, 
where  he  had  till  then  lived  in  repentance  and 


106  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

mourning,  and  placed  him  once  more  on  the 
legitimate  throne  of  Israel.  But  Ashmodai  fled 
at  the  approach  of  Solomon,  fearing  to  be  fet- 
tered again. 


THE  NUN  OF  KAUSCHENBACH. 

THE  village  of  Kauschenbach,  in  the  county 
of  Zipsen,  well  known  in  Hungary  for  its 
mineral  springs,  is  situated  at  the  foot  of  a 
mountain  of  the  chalk  formation  pierced  by 
numerous  caverns.  The  country  around  is 
unfertile;  no  fruit-tree  grows  on  the  green 
but  treacherous  sod,  which  covers  a  marshy 
ground.  When  the  wanderer  approaches  the 
hot  spring,  his  steps  resound  on  the  soil, 
and  his  ear  is  caught  by  the  rushing  of  sub- 
terranean waters,  which  give  name  to  the 
place.*  He  sees  everywhere  manifold  petri- 

*  Rauschenbach  means  in  German  rushing  brook. 


108  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGAKY, 

factions;  whatever  falls  into  the  boiling  foun- 
tain is  covered  with,  a  crust  of  lime  and  turned 
into  stone.  Thus  are  water-lilies  and  reeds 
interlaced  in  the  most  varied  forms,  and  but- 
terflies and  beetles,  attracted  by  the  beautiful 
plants,  partake  their  fate.  Life  does  not  seem 
extinct,  but  spell -bound  in  the  delicate  incrus- 
tations. 

The  hot  element,  breaking  violently,  through 
the  earth,  in  a  short  time  moulds  a  gigantic 
stone  basin  by  the  continuous  precipitation 
of  chalk.  In  the  midst  of  the  boiling  waters 
which  fill  the  basin,  bubbles  of  gas  incessantly 
gurgle  and  splutter  until  the  deposit  of  chalk 
obstructs  the  free  passage  of  the  waters, 
which  are  thus  forced  to  seek  elsewhere  an 
unimpeded  course,  and  to  form  a  new  shelf  in  a 
lower  part  of  the  mountain. 

This  process  has  been  carried  on  for  cen- 
turies. Many  an  empty  cauldron  of  this  kind 
gives  evidence  of  the  incessant  activity  of  the 
spring.  The  most  remarkable,  and  probably 
the  most  ancient  of  these  basins,  is  close  to 


THE  NUN.  109 

the  tog  of  the  mountain ;  it  is  half-filled  with 
lurid  water,  from  which,  especially  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  after  rain,  such  quantities  of  carbonic 
acid  gas  are  exhaled,  that  the  whirling  crowds 
of  insects,  which  alone  in  this  dreary  atmo- 
sphere dance  around,  fall  drowsily  to  the  ground, 
followed  by  lizards,  frogs,  and  birds,  who,  pur- 
suing their  prey  with  too  much  avidity,  are, 
like  them,  often  poisoned  by  the  deadly  exhala- 
tions. 

The  legend  tells,  that  a  health-endowing 
spring  once  gushed  in  this  basin,  now  filled  by 
the  murky  pool  which  benumbs  the  very  air. 
At  that  time  a  nunnery  stood  in  this  neighbour- 
hood ;  it  was  raised  on  the  mountain  overlook- 
ing the  country  around. 

One  summer  morning  one  of  the  young 
sisters  was  descending  towards  the  valley ;  she 
had  been  called  to  attend  a  sick  peasant  woman, 
and  while  hastening  to  the  fulfilment  of  her 
duty,  she  little  heeded  the  charms  of  nature 
which  spread  all  around  her.  She  looked  down 


110  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

on  the  rosary  she  held  in  her  hand :  one  pearl 
after  the  other  slipped  through  her  fingers,  and 
marked  the  prayer  her  lips  repeated  with 
accustomed  devotion,  until  she  reached  the 
humble  hut  where  her  nursing  care  was  ex- 
pected. It  was  evening  before  she  had  fulfilled 
her  pious  duty,  and  retraced  her  path  to  the 
cloister.  She  was  tired;  the  cool  transparency 
of  the  mineral  spring  attracted  her  attention. 
Everything  around  was  silent,  yet  eloquent  with 
the  charms  of  nature.  The  sky  was  of  clear 
blue,  and  the  summer  clouds,  tinged  rosy  by 
the  purple  and  gold  of  the  sinking  sun,  were 
drifting  on  the  mirror  of  the  fountain,  which 
was  limpid  and  bright  as  heaven  itself.  The 
young  nun  longed  to  dive  into  the  waveless 
surface.  No  step  was  to  be  heard,  no  eye  could 
detect  her;  she  gently  lifted  her  veil,  laid  down 
her  garment  on  the  meadow,  and  descended 
slowly  into  the  rocky  recess,  where  the  waters 
pressed  around  her. 

The  whistle  of  the  shepherd,  the  bell  of  the 


THE   NUN.  Ill 

returning  herds,  the  cheerful  songs  of  the 
peasant  girls  and  boys  who  came  from  the 
fields,  sounded  up  from  the  distant  valley 
which  the  shade  of  the  mountain  covered. 
All  was  silent  again  ;  the  young  nun  felt 
emotions  bewildering  her  secluded  heart.  She 
felt  as  if  sighs  of  longing  and  love  escaped  the 
balmy  breath  of  earth.  She  had  spent  the  day 
at  the  couch  of  an  old  mother  who,  surrounded 
by  her  weeping  sons,  daughters,  grand-children, 
and  their  flaxen-haired  boys  and  girls,  had 
calmly  breathed  her  last.  She  had  blessed  her 
family,  had  affectionately  seized  the  hand  of  the 
old  man  who  had  led  her  through  so  many 
years  of  toil  and  of  joy,  and  thanked  heaven  that 
her  companion  stood  by  her  in  death  as  he  had 
done  during  life.  The  old  man  had  pressed  to 
his  heart  the  hand  of  his  dying  wife,  and  when 
he  had  closed  her  eyes,  he  said  :  "I  follow  you 
soon." 

The  hut  was  poor,  yet  the  young  man  could 
see  that  the  old  mother  whom  she  had  nursed, 


112  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

and  with  whom  she'  had  prayed,  had  been 
blessed  by  the  full  measure  of  earthly  felicity : 
a  life  of  work  and  toil,  vigorous  children  who 
tenderly  looked  up  to  her,  an  affectionate  hus- 
band, whose  cares  she  readily  shared,  whose 
whims  she  ever  smilingly  met.  Their  love  had 
outlasted  time. 

The  mind  of  the  sister  had  been  impressed 
by  this  inartificial  happiness,  and  now  all  around 
seemed  to  repeat  the  simple  tale  of  love  and 
enjoyment,  and  to  sympathize  with  her  own 
feelings  and  thoughts.  Birds,  sailing  through 
the  wide  ocean  of  air,  glided  to  their  nests,  and 
warbled  aloud  as  if  to  apprise  their  brood  that 
they  approached.  The  cricket  chirped  in  the 
luxuriant  grass,  the  humming  of  honey-loaded 
bees,  blended  into  a  pleasant  concert  with  the 
monotonous  tune  of  the  cuckoo,  and  the  melody 
of  the  nightingale.  Bushes  and  flowers  seemed 
in  sweet  repose  to  listen  and  smile,  when 
the  parting  sun  threw  the  golden  veil  of 
his  last  rays  over  blossoms  and  leaves,  as  if 


THE  NUN.  113 

to  protect  them  from  the  chill  of  the 
night. 

The  young  nun  sorrowfully  felt  her  isolation 
from  the  sympathies  alive  all  over  nature,  and 
bitterly  felt  the  weight  of  her  vows  which  re- 
pressed her  feelings  into  cold  solitude.  Her 
eye  filled  with  tears,  her  heart  with  longing; 
she  repented  the  oath  which  shut  her  out  of 
the  beautiful  world,  to  tread  the  dreary  path  of 
seclusion,  a  stranger  to  all  but  the  walls  of  the 
cloister,  which  always  recalled  to  her  mind  the 
premature  sacrifice. 

But  hardly  had  the  sinful  thought  escaped 
her  bosom,  when  all  darkened  around.  The 
storm  raged  fiercely,  clouds  of  dust  blinded  her 
eye,  the  water  began  to .  swell,  subterraneous 
thunder  rolled,  lightning  broke  forth,  the  soil 
trembled,  the  nun  fainted. 

On  the  subsequent  morrow  she  was  missed, 
and  was  everywhere  sought  for,  but  in  vain : 
she  had  disappeared.  The  torn  veil,  attached 
to  a  withered  bush  of  eglantine,  was  the  only 
trace  left.  But  the  clear  spring  of  health  had 


114  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

also  dried  up,  and  poisonous  exhalations  alone 
streamed  from  the  foul  water  in  the  half-empty 
chalk-basin,  and  excited  in  the  mind  of  the 
frightened  sisterhood  the  sinister  belief  in  a 
mysterious  crime. 


THE  CLOISTEE  OF  MANASTIR 

FIVE  hundred  years  ago  a  large  forest  ex- 
tended all  over  the  mountains  of  Zemplin, 
where  now  stands  Manastir,  the  Basilite 
cloister. 

But  the  dark  woods  of  pines,  varied  by  birch- 
copses,  or  by  the  stately  beech,  were  not  lonely  ; 
sick  and  paralytic  people  thronged  from  every 
direction  to  the  crystal  well,  which  streamed 
forth  under  a  rock,  overgrown  by  mosses,  and 
surrounded  by  trees  of  a  past  age.  Hundreds 
of  wealthy  men  owed  their  health  to  the  forest- 
spring;  but  when  they  recovered,  they  soon 
forgot  the  benefit  they  had  received,  and  no  one 


116  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

thought  of  raising  a  pious  monument  of 
gratitude. 

Once  a  blind  beggar  came  and  bathed  in  the 
waters.  Their  mysterious  virtue  restored  his 
sight,  and  what  the  rich  had  neglected  to  do, 
the  beggar  performed.  Out  of  the  alms  which 
in  long  years  of  privation  he  had  collected,  he 
erected  a  chapel  at  the  fountain,  and  conse- 
crated it  to  his  patron  Saint  Basil.  The  inhabit- 
ants of  the  neighbourhood  thus  reminded  of 
their  duty,  went  thither  in  pilgrimage  every 
year  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Saint,  to  celebrate 
mass,  to  surround  the  sacred  images  with  gar- 
lands, and  to  offer  a  wax  candle  before  the 
altar,  in  sign  of  thankful  devotion. 

These  processions  yearly  increased  in  length 
and  splendour.  With  flowing  standards  and 
loud  songs,  the  cross  carried  by  a  monk  who 
preceded  them,  hundreds  and  hundreds  thronged 
to  the  chapel  at  the  fountain.  The  monk 
blessed  the  well;  on  this  day  every  one  of  the 
faithful  then  filled  the  rim  of  his  hat  with  the 
water  and  drank  it ;  he  knelt  down  on  the  steps 


THE   CLOISTER   OF   MAN  ASTIR.  117 

of  the  chapel,  uttered  his  prayer,  flung  a  coin  to 
the  altar  through  the  bars  of  the  sanctuary, 
and  again  joined  the  procession,  to  return  with 
the  same  solemnity. 

The  lord  of  this  neighbourhood,  Yendelin 
Drugeth,  was  an  imperious  man  who  lived  only 
for  reckless  enjoyment.  Eegardless  of  Sundays 
and  holidays,  he  and  his  companions  hunted  the 
stag,  or  tracked  the  boar  all  the  year  long.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  the  bugle  sounded 
through  the  woods,  and  "Vendelin  Drugeth 
appeared,  riding  his  steed  at  the  head  of  a 
merry  company,  after  a  day  of  lucky  sport. 
The  horses  were  covered  with  sweat,  as  they 
toiled  along  under  the  burden  of  the  carcases 
of  deer,  trailing  over  their  backs.  The  field- 
bags  of  the  sportsmen  showed  the  long  ears  or 
feet  of  hares,  and  the  dogs  followed  barking  and 
wrhining.  Vendelin  had  just  left  the  outskirts 
of  the  forest,  leading  to  the  meadows  which 
were  watered  by  the  spring,  when  the  festival 
procession  turned  round  the  corner  of  the 
chapel,  and  the  multitude  struck  up  the  hymn 


118  POPULAK  TALES   OF   HUNGAKY. 

to  Saint  Basil.  The  high-flowing  standards 
and  the  loud  song,  which  suddenly  burst  forth, 
frightened  the  steed  of  Drugeth,  so  that  it 
sprang  aside  and  reared  on  its  hind-feet.  The 
bold  horseman  pressed  his  spurs  sharply  into 
the  animal's  flanks ;  but,  only  the  more  bewil- 
dered, it  fell  backwards  and  crushed  its  master 
under  its  weight.  The  arm  of  Drugeth  was 
broken. 

Infuriated  at  such  a  welcome,  with  bitter 
imprecations  he  gave  orders  to  disperse  the 
procession,  and  to  pull  down  the  chapel.  The 
people  fled,  with  hatred  in  their  hearts, 
and  complaints  on  their  lips;  but  the  chapel 
of  the  blind  beggar  was  razed  to  the  ground. 

Though  supporting  himself  with  difficulty, 
the  Baron  fiercely  whipped  up  his  steed,  had  his 
arm  loosely  tied  up,  and  rode  home,  where  his 
bruised  limb  was  dressed  and  nursed  by  the 
most  experienced  old  woman,  who  applied  herbs 
of  unquestionable  efficacy.  Yet  the  broken 
bone  did  not  join,  the  wound  remained  unhealed, 
and  grew  sore  and  inflamed.  The  great  man  at 


THE  CLOISTER  OF  MANASTIB.  119 

/• 

first  was  fretful,  then  swore  and  cursed  the  pro- 
cession, but  soon  after  was  seized  by  panic,  and 
sent  far  and  wide  for  advice.  But  the  skill  of 
the  most  renowned  surgeons  was  here  unsuccess- 
ful ;  human  knowledge  seemed  to  be  insufficient, 
and  Drugeth  saw  that  his  days  on  earth  were 
numbered. 

It  was  a  cheerless  night,  the  wind  blew  strong, 
thick  flakes  of  snow  covered  the  pathless  valley ; 
the  deep  windows  of  the  castle  were  bedimmed 
by  ice,  the  candles  feebly  flickered  within  the 
manor,  which  was  silent  and  gloomy,  as  its  lonely 
master.  Unexpectedly  the  bell  rang  at  the  iron 
gate,  the  barking  of  dogs  answered,  but  was 
silenced  by  the  huntsman,  who,  leaving  the  hall 
with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  went  to  open  to  the 
stranger.  An  aged  Misericordian  claimed  hos- 
pitality. The  tin-box  at  his  leather  girdle  marked 
out  his  vocation,  for  he  had  been  rambling  about 
the  neighbourhood  to  collect  pious  gifts  for  the 
cloister.  He  was  shown  to  one  of  the  spacious 
rooms  in  the  ground  floor,  ever  ready  for  the 
reception  of  strangers.  Abundance  of  wood 


120  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

soon  crackled  in  the  high,  chimney,  wine  and 
bread  were  put  on  the  table,  and  the  curtained 
bed  was  uncovered  for  rest.  A  savoury  supper 
of  pickled  cabbage,  ham,  fouls,  dry  cakes,  and 
preserved  fruits  was  served  in  the  hall ;  the 
steward  attended  the  meal,  freely  partook  of  the 
bottle,  and  at  length,  when  warmed  by  it,  related 
to  the  guest  how  merry  the  castle  had  been  until 
the  wild  conduct  of  their  lord  (here  the  steward 
crossed  himself)  had  been  justly  punished.  Yet, 
he  continued,  it  is  sad  to  see  a  man  in  his  very 
best  years  of  enjoyment  helplessly  laid  up  on  a 
pillow  of  suffering;  a  man  so  wealthy  to  die 
without  children,  all  his  property  to  go  to  un- 
known heirs.  Poor  master !  the  sound  of  the 
hunting  horn  will  no  more  rejoice  his  ear,  he 
will  soon  be  gone. 

"  Would  he  not  see  me  ?"  inquired  the 
friar. 

"  He  never  was  fond  of  devout  ways,  and 
long  prayers,"  replied  the  steward,  "and  since 
his  sad  accident,  he  hates  the  friar's  frock.  Yet 
his  strength  is  broken,  and  in  the  hours  of 


THE   CLOISTER  OF  MANASTIE.  121 

sleepless  pain  lie  will  perhaps  not  object  to  the 
consolation  of  a  holy  father." 

Next  morning  the  friar  was  introduced  to 
the  lord  of  the  manor.  Vendelin  was  glad 
of  his  presence,  and  though  without  great  hopes 
of  recovery,  attentively  listened  while  the  friar 
spoke  of  the  grace  of  God,  and  the  miracles  often 
performed  upon  sinners. 

"  Providence  has  granted  thee,  my  son,"  the 
Misericordian  said,  "  a  source  of  health  in  thy 
neighbourhood.  The  blessed  spring  of  the 
forest,  ever  mild  and  healing,  may  impart  to 
thee  new  vigour." 

"  Never  to  me,"  Drugeth  despondingly  ob- 
jected;  "my  health  is  gone  by  my  own  fault. 
No  marvel  will  be  wrought  for  me." 

"  Trust  and  try,"  replied  the  Misericor- 
dian. 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  the  sick  man  ;  "  for 
me  there  is  no  help — for  me  no  hope.  I  have 
never  relied  upon  any  but  myself.  I  mani- 
fested this  at  the  spring,  and  now  the  curse  of 
profanation  rests  upon  me." 
6 


122  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

"  My  son,  the  All  wise  often  comforts  the 
sinner  by  the  very  means  which  have  served  to 
chastise  him.  Humble  thy  heart,  and  thou  shalt 
be  comforted." 

The  sun  shone  bright.  Drugeth  was  care- 
fully lifted  from  the  bed,  to  which  he  had  been 
confined  for  months,  and  was  laid  on  a  couch, 
covered  with  sheep-skin.  Four  huntsmen  sup- 
ported it,  and  attended  by  the  monk,  Vendelin 
was  conveyed  through  the  court  of  his  manor. 
The  dogs  sprang  joyfully  up  at  the  unwonted 
sight  of  their  master ;  they  wagged  their  tails, 
and  followed  the  retinue.  It  moved  through 
the  woods;  the  snow  on  the  ground  crunched 
under  the  heavy  boots  of  the  huntsmen ;  the 
hanging  combs  of  the  tufted  larches  strongly 
contrasted  with  their  horizontal  boughs,  bur- 
dened by  shining  masses  of  snow.  The  branches 
of  beech  and  oak  sparkled  from  afar  with 
myriads  of  icy  crystals,  reflecting  the  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  silence  of  the  woods  was  only 
interrupted  by  the  distant  howling  of  wolves, 
or  by  the  occasional  sounds  of  crashing,  when 


THE   CLOISTER   OF   MANASTIR.  123 

the  sturdiest  branches  of  trees  were  rent  by 
the  violence  of  the  frost.  Over  slippery  rock 
and  through  thickets,  the  men  slowly  reached 
the  spring,  which  alone  fostered  life  and  vegeta- 
tion, in  a  region,  where  nature  was  benumbed 
by.  winter.  Whilst  everywhere  else  the 
beauty  which  adorns  the  mild  seasons  had 
been  swept  away,  and  left  no  trace,  yet 
mosses,  fresh  herbs,  and  green  leaves  greeted 
the  eye,  wherever  streamlets  of  the  warm  spring 
bedewed  the  rock  or  the  sod ;  spring  seemed  to 
have  marked  out  that  lovely  spot  for  its  place 
of  rest. 

Here  they  set  down  the  couch  on  which  lay 
the  invalid,  colourless,  with  oppressed  breath 
and  faint  heart.  The  attendants  retired,  the 
friar  knelt  beside  the  helpless  man,  and  devoutly 
listened  to  the  confession  pronounced  in  low 
accents.  He  then  crossed  himself,  stretched 
his  arms  to  heaven,  joined  his  hands  and  put 
them  on  the  head  of  the  penitent,  whispering  a 
short  prayer.  Turning  to  the  spring,  he  re- 


124  POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

peated  the.  pious  invocation.  The  huntsmen, 
who  meanwhile  had  knelt  down,  approached 
when  the  Misericordian  beckoned  them.  They 
gently  lifted  Drugeth,  unfastened  his  fur,  untied 
the  leathern  doublet,  and  dipped  the  suffering 
arm  into  the  waters  of  the  well.  Vendelin  felt 
as  if  new  vigour  streamed  into  the  limb ;  the 
bone  was  joined;  he  was  healed. 

But  the  miracle  had  not  only  restored  health 
to  his  body,  his  mind  too  was  changed  ;  he 
resolved  to  live  a  new  life. 

"When  April  had  melted  the  snow  in  the 
mountains,  and  the  stems  of  the  forest  put  forth 
new  buds,  he  erected  a  church  on  the  spot 
where  the  chapel  once  stood,  which  by  his 
arbitrary  order  had  been  pulled  down ;  and  at 
the  side  of  the  church  he  founded  a  Basilite 
cloister,  in  which  he  himself  entered  as  lay- 
brother.  His  devotion  and  Christian  virtues 
soon  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  abbot  in  the 
monastery,  to  which  he  bequeathed  all  his  pro- 
perty. The  cloister  enjoys  down  to  this  day 


THE   CLOISTER  OF  MANASTIB.  125 

the  fruits  of  the  liberality  of  Vendelin  Drugeth  ; 
but  the  spring  of  the  forest,  with  all  its  beauty 
and  its  marvels,  in  the  course  of  time  has 
disappeared. 


PA1ST  TWAEDOWSKY: 

OR, 

THE    DEMON    OUTWITTED. 

THE  tale  of  Pan  Tw&rdowsky  is  more  Polish 
than  Hungarian,  but  I  have  heard  it  told  in 
Hungary  with  several  variations,  imparting  to  it 
a  totally  different  character. 

Pan  Twardowsky  was  a  wise  man.  He 
could  assign  a  cause  for  whatever  happened, 
and  always  pointed  out  precisely  how  things 
should  have  been  done.  No  cow  ever  fell 
without  the  Pan  saying  why  it  had  come  to 
mischief;  could  the  animal  have  consulted  him, 
it  was  sure  to  have  been  saved.  He  knew 


PAN   TWARDOWSKY.  127 

every  disease  by  description ;  and  could  his 
advice  only  have  arrived  in  time,  or  could  the 
patient  have  conformed  to  the  diet  he  pre- 
scribed, no  man  would  have  died  in  our  coun- 
try, and  more  Hungarians  would  people  the 
earth  than  stars  the  skies.  His  deep  learning 
excited  his  presumptuous  pride.  He  often, 
for  pastime,  summoned  the  enemy  of  mankind, 
and  disputed  with  him  about  topics  too  com- 
plicated for  the  intellect  of  human  creatures. 
At  last,  the  Pan  thought  he  was  more  clever 
than  the  devil  himself;  and  when  the  cloven- 
footed  gentleman  offered  to  serve  him,  if  he 
pledged  his  soul,  he  gladly  subscribed  the 
agreement,  convinced  that  he  would  easily 
outwit  his  partner.  The  compact  laid  down  : 

"That  the  Pan  should  be  the  absolute 
master  of  his  attendant ;  and  that  the  latter 
should  nowhere,  but  in  Eome,  claim  the  soul 
pledged  for  his  service." 

The  Pan  was  no  easy  master.  He  took 
no  rest  day  or  night,  travelling  from  north 
to  south,  and  investigating  everywhere  the 


128  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

undiscovered  causes  of  all  which,  he  saw, 
heard,  or  fancied.  He  had  the  ambition  to 
be  appreciated  according  to  his  merit,  and  to 
occupy  an  exalted  station  in  society,  not  being 
satisfied  to  be  courted  solely  for  the  riches 
he  lavished  and  despised.  This,  however, 
proved  the  more  difficult,  as  after  all  he  was 
but  a  doctor ;  and  the  devil  himself  could  not 
get  him  what  he  most  ardently  desired — a 
noble  pedigree. 

Yes,  he  was  subjected  to  taxation  and  to 
military  service ;  and  though  his  gold  easily 
boiight  him  a  substitute,  and  his  purse  grew 
no  lighter  by  the  contribution,  he  still  knew 
that  he  was  not  entitled  by  birth  to  the  privi- 
leges, which  his  coachman  possessed,  who  was 
of  noble  origin;  and  that  the -title  of  "Your 
Honour,"  with  which  he  used  to  be  addressed, 
was  granted  to  his  dress,  but  was  not  his  by 
right. 

Though  wherever  he  stayed  his  officious 
attendant  established  a  house  for  him  in  the 
most  costly  taste,  provided  it  with  the  best 


PAN  TWARDOWSKY.  129 

table,  and  disposed  gold-tasselled  hussars  be- 
hind every  chair,  yet  he  was  far  from  being 
contented.  Our  Pan  had  no  manor;  no 
peasants  to  command;  his  bread  did  not 
grow  on  his  own  fields;  he  had  no  herds  as 
the  patriarchs  of  ancient  times ;  no  park  with 
ancient  trees  planted  by  his  predecessors ;  no 
long  rows  of  ancestral  portraits  in  his  hall. 
But  these  privations  were  yet  trifling  in  com- 
parison with  all  the  humiliations  he  had  to 
undergo  in  town,  where  he  sought  fashionable 
society.  He  one  day  ordered  his  red-haired 
companion  to  take  him  to  Court,  and  to  get 
him  a  wife  of  illustrious  birth;  nothing  was 
easier,  he  thought,  for  one  initiated  into  all 
circles  of  high-life,  as  the  devil  professed  to 
be.  Now,  however,  when  forced  to  comply 
with  that  desire,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  grinned  so  despisingly,  that  the  blood  rose 
to  the  very  nails  of  the  Pan,  and  boiled  in 
the  tops  of  his  fingers ;  recollecting,  however, 
that  it  would  be  ungentlemanlike  to  express 
his  feelings  with  his  hands  and  tongue,  lie 
6* 


130  POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

took  his  long  pipe,  lighted  it,  and   vented  his 
humour  in  clouds  of  smoke. 

They  went  to  Vienna,  where  the  Queen  held 
her.  Court.  The  renowned  Hungarian  doctor, 
with  his  secretary,  who  dispensed  the  munifi- 
cent gifts  of  his  master  to  the  poor,  and  praised 
in  every  quarter  the  unparalleled  wealth  and 
wisdom  of  his  Pan  Twardowsky,  attracted 
general  attention.  A  doctor  who  took  no  fee 
but  distributed  princely  alms ;  who  courted  no 
patient,  but  never  refused  advice;  a  doctor 
whose  very  secretary  had  not  only  the  sem- 
blance of  a  cavalier,  but  even  refused  the  silver 
and  gold  of  those  anxious  to  get  access  to  the 
doctor ;  so  i  are  a  personage  could  not  fail  to 
become  a  chief  lion  of  the  day.  He  was 
honoured  with  a  summons  to  a  high  dignitary, 
and  was  lucky  enough  to  alleviate  an  inve- 
terate indigestion ;  this  got  him  an  introduc- 
tion to  her  Majesty's  great  chamberlain,  so 
he  was  presented  at  the  first  drawing-room^ 
and  got  an  invitation  to  the  next  ball  at 
Court. 


PAN   TWARDOWSKY.  131 

With  a  sword  at  his  side,  and  a  powdered 
wig,  in  a  stately  coach  drawn  by  four  richly 
caparisoned  horses,  the  Pan  almost  forgot  that 
he  had  no  pedigree.  But  when  he  entered 
the  dancing-hall,  where  a  crowd  of  high-born 
damsels  appeared  to  his  dazzled  sight,  he  felt 
so  humbled  that  he  hardly  dared  advance ;  and 
when  her  Majesty  herself  beckoned  him  to 
join  the  dance  with  one  of  the  ladies,  he  obeyed 
without  ever  venturing  to  raise  his  eyes  or  to 
move  his  lips.  He  would  have  been  grievously 
embarrassed  to  say  whether  his  partner  was 
sloe  or  beetle-eyed  ;*  that  she  was  noble,  he 
knew.  What  more  could  he  wish  to  inquire? 
And  when  the  Queen  approached,  and  said : 
u  I  see  you  are  delighted  with  your  partner. 
I  must  assist  your  timidity,  and  propose  for 
you,"  he  was  overwhelmed  with  the  honour,  and 
soon  celebrated  with  great  festivity  his  brilliant 
marriage. 

The  lady  was  no  longer  a  child.     Her  coun- 

*  Hungarian  expression  for  blue  and  black  eyes. 


132  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

tenance  even  made  it  difficult  to  fancy  that  she 
ever  had  been  a  child.  Her  mature  judgment 
made  her  fully  aware  of  the  great  sacrifice  she 
had  made  in  accepting  the  millionnaire  fortune 
of  the  Pan,  and  himself  in  the  bargain.  He 
never  could  become  chamberlain — he  never 
could  be  admitted  to  the  small  parties  of  the 
illustrious  circles,  where  only  the  most  exclu- 
sive of  the  exclusives  found  their  place-;  and 
the  lady,  now  vulgarly  called  Panna  Twardow- 
ska,  was  excluded  from  familiar  intercourse 
with  the  persons  who  alone  constituted  "  So- 
ciety." Could  she  accustom  herself  to  any 
other  atmosphere  ? 

This  she  often  enough  repeated  to  her 
humbled  consort,  who  was  so  fully  convinced 
of  her  pretensions,  that  he  most  patiently  bore 
her  contempt,  which  was  seldom  mitigated  by 
the  sunshine  of  lofty  compassion. 

The  Pan  applied  to  his  familiar  spirit  for 
advice  to  remedy  the  depression  of  his  spirits, 
which  made  him,  as  he  confessed,  completely 
insensible  to  the  charms  of  his  noble  wife. 


PAN  TWAHDOWSKY.  133 

He  was  ill,  no  doubt,  said  lie,  as  his  high-born 
companion  herself  appeared  insupportable  to 
him.  His  familiar  spared  no  trouble  to  im- 
prove the  nervous  system  of  the  Pan,  whose 
perception  was  so  sadly  disturbed.  He  made 
him  renounce  the  practice  of  his  art,  and  re- 
frain from  study ;  public  amusements,  music 
and  dance,  races,  picture-galleries,  and  museums 
were  visited :  in  vain.  An  ancient  palace  was 
purchased  from  a  family  of  great  name  and 
ruined  fortune.  No  expense  was  spared  to 
adapt  the  old  building  to  the  modern  fashion. 
The  tedious  uniformity  of  the  classical  style 
was  corrected  ;  Gothic  arches  were  decorated 
d  la  renaissance,  and  the  grey  walls  ornamented 
with  the  gaudiest  productions  of  modern  art 
and  foreign  manufacture.  No  cheap  article 
was  tolerated ;  nothing  but  what  was  costly  and 
gorgeous  seemed  worth  having. 

The  hills  were  transformed  into  gardens  ; 
champagne  flowed  in  fountains ;  music  bands 
deafened  one  another :  all  the  world  was  in- 
vited. The  world  was  enchanted.  The  gentle- 


134  POPULAR  TALES  OF    HUNGARY. 

men  titled  and  untitled,  presented  themselves 
at  the  Panna's.  She  was  a  distinguished 
woman,  who  had  amazingly  improved  since 
her  marriage — wonderfully,  indeed,  considering 
her  mesalliance.  The  canonesses,  with  whom 
she  had  been  intimate  in  her  former  days, 
accepted  her  carriage-and-four,  and  honoured 
her  parties  with  their  company,  and  even 
acknowledged  the  Pan  with  a  gracious  nod. 
Though  but  a  doctor,  he  was  tolerated  in  the 
drawing-room  of  his  wife.  He  did  not  exer- 
cise his  profession;  he  earned  not  his  liveli- 
hood by  labour ;  and,  therefore,  on  the  score 
of  his  wealth,  an  indulgent  judgment  might 
be  passed,  and  he  might  be  treated  as  a  gentle- 
man. 

Intoxicating  himself  in  this  success,  he 
silenced  the  yearning  of  his  heart,  which  whis- 
pered "  a  pedigree."  He  spent  his  nights  in 
amusement,  his  mornings  in  calls,  his  after- 
noons in  dinners,  his  evenings  in  the  theatre, 
where  the  fashionables  used  to  chew  the  cud 
on  their  dinner  and  to  yawn  ;  yet  he  him- 


PAN  TWARPOWSKY.  135 

self  could  not  get  rid  of  some  interest  in  the 
performance,  and  even  forgot  himself  so  far  as 
to  whisper  to  the  Panna,  and  request  her  to 
lower  her  voice  a  little  in  her  animated  dis- 
cussion with  Baroness  Fifi,  about  the  milliner 
of  Princess  Mimi,  as  he  was  anxious  not  to 
lose  a  word  of  Hamlet's  "  to  be  or  not  to  be." 

This  high-treason  against  "  good-breeding'7 
condemned  the  unfortunate  Pan  to  the  forfeiture  of 
his  seat  in  the  box  of  his  wife.  He  was  banished 
to  a  stall.  There  he  sat  one  evening,  all  eye 
and  all  ear  to  the  heroes  and  heroines,  when 
suddenly  his  powdered  wig  was  blown  down 
from  his  head  as  if  by  magic,  and  when  he 
turned  round,  in  utter  amazement,  he  saw  the 
wand  which  had  struck  him  in  form  of  a  large 
green  fan,  in  the  hands  of  an  old  Countess- 
dowager,  who  leaned  behind  him  in  the  box 
elbowing  his  stall,  No.  1. 

The  conversation  he  then  heard  completed 
his  horror ;  the  old  dame  said  :  "  The  insolent 
fellow  hindered  me  seeing  whether  your  Prince, 
my  dear,  was  at  his  post.'? 


136  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGABY. 

"  Your  Ladyship  served. the  man  right,"  was 
the  younger  lady's  reply.  "  Who  can  he  be  ? 
He  bowed  when  he  entered  the  house." 

"Some  barbarous-named  parvenu,  surgeon,  or 
barber,  who  has  amassed  money  by  his  quacking. 
He  was  mentioned  to  me  when  my  pet  dog  had 
hurt  its  foot.  Such  people,  of  no  family,  dare 
to  obstruct  our  view  1" 

The  Pan  did  not  wait  for  his  carriage  ;  he  ran 
home,  breathlessly  ordered  everything  to  be  packed 
in  readiness  for  instant  departure,  and  issued 
the  same  order  even  to  the  Panna,  in  a  tone  so 
strange,  that  for  the  first  time  since  her  mar- 
riage, she  complied  without  objection,  and  vio- 
lently shutting  the  door,  he  muttered  to  himself 
the  sole  words :  "  all  is  lost  I" 

No  one,  however,  understood  this  significant 
phrase,  but  lanko,  the  old  faithful  servant  of 
the  Pan,  who,  though  very  sulky  since  the  club- 
footed  secretary  had  supplanted  him,  yet  pre- 
served the  most  sincere  attachment  for  his  good 
master,  whom  as  a  child  he  had  carried  in  his 
arms,  singing  him  to  sleep  with  pious  lulla- 


FAN   TWARDOWSKY.  137 

bies,  and  accustomed  to  watch  his  very  emo- 
tions. 

"My  poor  master,"  objected  faithful  lanko, 
"do  calm  yourself;  you  are  not  fit  for  the 
excited  life  you  lead,  surrounded  by  a  host  of 
guests  and  festivities.  Let  us  two  return  to 
our  country ;  leave  the  Panna  to  the  care  of  our 
mysterious  companion  ;  you  have  had  enough  of 
both." 

But  the  grinning  secretary  knocked  already 
at  the  door,  and  presenting  himself  with  a  devout 
mien,  inquired  for  orders.  His  appearance 
rekindled,  as  a  flash  of  lightning,  the  half- 
choked  passion  of  the  Pan. 

"  Get  me  a  pedigree — I  must  have  one  !"  he 
peremptorily  exclaimed.  The  devil  bowed,  and 
turned  upon  his  heel.  The  carriage  stood  at 
the  gate,  the  postillion  blew  his  horn ;  but  no 
one  could  penetrate  to  the  Pan — he  was  locked 
up  in  his  room.  He  remained  invisible  for  two 
days  and  two  nights.  lanko  went  restlessly  to 
and  fro,  listened  at  the  door,  but  heard  only 
hurriedly  interrupted  steps,  intermixed  with 


138  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

deep  sighs.  He  at  last  distinguished  the 
sonorous  voice  of  his  master,  and  the  cutting 
accents  of  the  mysterious  valet. 

"  You  have  got  it  at  last,7'  said  the  former. 

"No  doubt,"  retorted  the  other;  "  and  as 
long  a  one  as  any  in  the  archives  of  the  King 
of  arms.  You  are  derived,  from  King  Svato- 
pluk  himself,  by  the  cousin  of  his  cousin  in  the 
fourth  degree.  Nothing  can  be  more  clearly 
established  than  your  titles,  and  I  dare  say  the 
Panna  herself  will  be  satisfied." 

"Well,  well,"  the  Pan  impatiently  interrupted, 
"  do  not  now  make  a  fuss  about  it ;  we  shall 
lock  up  that  paper,  and  use  it  only  in  urgent 
cases ;  no  necessity  whatever  to  press  upon  any- 
body the  evidence  of  our  rights." 

The  devil  scornfully  laughed;  he  was  de- 
lighted that  "the  Pan,  in  the  very  moment  when 
he  got  possession  of  his  forged  pedigree,  had 
already  learned  to  speak  with  aristocratic  dig- 
nity of  his  rights.  But  poor  lanko  turned 
red,  like  a  lobster,  when  he  heard  that  his 
master  abased  himself  to  an  imposture. 


PAN  TWAEDOWSKY.  139 

On  the  subsequent  morning  the  Pan  waited 
upon  his  lady,  and  asked  if  she  would  be  ready 
to  set  out  at  noon  on  their  journey.  But  it 
seems  that  the  Panna  was  no  shrew  to  be  tamed 
by  whims;  for  since  her  consort  had,  without 
any  obvious  cause,  insisted  upon  a  speedy  de- 
parture, and  then  had  delayed  it,  though  she 
had  been  frightened  into  compliance,  she  now 
was  fully  determined  to  remain  in  Vienna,  in 
spite  of  the  contrary  wishes  of  her  husband. 
Not  that  she  cared  for  it  just  at  present,  when 
summer  was  approaching,  and  there  soon  would 
be  nobody  in  town ;  but  she  never  forgot,  that 
for  once  she  had  yielded  to  "  terrorism,"  and 
often  remembered  it  in  matrimonial  conferences, 
in  which  she  acted  as  accuser  and  judge. 

The  Pan  bowed  to  her  sway  in  every  respect, 
except  as  to  a  prolongation  of  his  stay  in  the 
Austrian  capital.  He  longed  for  his  own 
country — the  country  of  genuine  hospitality,  easy 
tolerance,  and  warm-hearted  patriotism ;  where 
every  guest  was  welcomed  as  a  relative,  and  every 
relative  as  a  brother. 


140  POPULAR   TALES    OF   HUNGARY. 

But  the  Panna  did  not  long  for  the  "  barba- 
rians." A  compromise  was  made  at  last,  a  visit 
to  several  capitals  of  Europe  was  to  precede  their 
return  to  Hungary. 

They  travelled  with  great  pomp  and  little 
amusement:  the  Panna  sought  watering-places, 
and  drawing-rooms,  but  found  nowhere  the 
abundance  of  Viennese  entertainments.  The 
Pan  longed  for  intellectual  intercourse,  but 
shunned  every  new  acquaintance  as  a  possible 
spy  into  his  social  position,  and  into  the 
mystery  of  his  pedigree.  This  pressed  on 
his  heart — this  haunted  his  sleep;  he  had  a 
pedigree ;  but  not  only  did  his  own  conscience 
reproach  it  with  illegitimacy,  his  grinning  com- 
panion did  it  no  less — not  by  word,  it  is  true, 
but  by  every  muscle  of  his  hypocritical,  insult- 
ingly devout  countenance.  How  the  Pan  hated 
it — how  he  hated  the  triumph  in  the  sly  glance 
of  approbation  when  the  Panna  spoke  with 
weariness  of  everything  she  had  seen  on  her 
journey,  and  mentioned  Rome  as  the  only  place 
she  still  cared  to  visit. 


TWAKDOWSKY.        .  141 

"  No," — the  Pan  desperately  opposed — "  I 
will  not  go  to  Rome,  it  will  be  my  death ;  the 
malaria  would  kill  us,  I  mean — " 

The  Panna  pointed  to  her  head,  and  waved 
her  hand  contemptuously,  which  plainly  bespoke 
what  she  thought  of  the  wits  of  her  lord.  She 
treated  him  accordingly,  and  made  all  necessary 
preparations  for  a  journey  to  Rome,  without 
taking  the  slightest  notice  of  his  protestations. 
He  knew  by  experience  that  contradiction  acted 
with  his  lady  as  a  stimulant  against  his  purpose, 
and  therefore  left  her  to  take  her  own  choice, 
setting  out  himself  to  Hungary  by  the  shortest 
way: 

There  he  was  heartily  welcomed ;  many  were 
glad  of  the  return  of  the  renowned  doctor,  who 
had  ever  gratuitously  attended  the  poor  and  the 
sick.  He  had  arrived  in  a  town,  where  he  in- 
tended to  spend  some  months  in  study  and  rest. 
He  read,  and  he  wrote,  and  visited  those  who 
required  assistance.  That  he  was  not  content, 
and  not  as  calm  as^he  appeared,  lanko  alone 
noticed ;  and  shuddered,  when  in  the  midst  of 


142  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

the  night,  he  repeatedly  heard  altercations  in  the 
room  of  his  master,  and  distinguished  the  voice 
of  the  malicious  attendant  in  accents  far  from 
submissive. 

Once  at  dusk  it  was  announced  to  the  Pan, 
that  at  the  hotel  a  lady,  who  had  given  birth  to 
a  child,  was  in  imminent  danger,  and  required 
his  attendance.  He  hastened  to  the  bed  of  the 
sick,  but  had  hardly  time  to  feel  her  pulse,  when 
he  perceived  at  his  side  his  evil  companion,  the 
well-known  contract  in  his  hand,  and  on  his  -lips 
the  words : 

"  The  condition  is  fulfilled,  thou  art  mine.  I 
am  no  longer  thy  servant  I" 

The  Pan  glanced  through  the  window,  and 
saw  that  the  sign  of  the  hotel  was  "  The  City  of 
Borne."  Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  he 
seized  the  innocent  child,  which  had  been  sanc- 
tified by  baptism,  and  had  as  yet  committed  no 
sin.  With  this  burden  in  his  arms,  he  prepared 
to  leave  the  room,  well  aware,  that  shielded  by 
the  innocence  of  the  child,  he  could  reach  the 
street,  where  "  out  of  Kome,"  the  fiend  had 


PAN  TWARDOWSKY.  143 

no  more  power  over  him.  Yet  lie  stopped  at 
the  threshold,  and  said : 

"Thou  seest,  I  am  not  so  easily  caught;  I 
have  profited  by  thy  example ;  I  know  subter- 
fuges as  well  as  thyself.  But  I  am  sick  of  thy 
company.  Since,  therefore,  one  of  us  must 
yield  the  ground,  let  us  once  more  measure  our 
wits.  Wilt  thou  try  a  new  compact,  and  let  it 
decide  irrevocably?  If  thou  canst  fulfil  three 
more  of  my  commands,  I  am  thine ;  but  if 
thou  failst,  thou  must  give  me  up,  and  I  am 
freed." 

"Well,"  grinned  the  patron  of  mischief,  who 
saw  his  prey  escaping  out  of  his  reach,  "  be  it 
thus :  I  agree." 

The  Pan  returned  to  his  house,  which  stood 
opposite  the  spacious  church.  That  very 
night  he  summoned  the  devil,  and  commanded 
that  before  dawn,  a  quarter  of  poppy  should, 
grain  by  grain,  be  nailed  to  the  roof  of  the 
cathedral* 

Before  the  cock  crowed,  every  one  of  the 
grains  of  the  poppy  were  attached  with  pointed 


144  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

pins  to  the  roof.  The  Pan,  who  had  not  closed 
his  eyes,  felt  still  less  inclination  to  rest.  He 
saw  that  no  physical  difficulty  was  insurmount- 
able to  his  attendant,  and  resolved  to  try  another 
expedient. 

He  therefore  desired  him  to  bathe  instantly  in 
consecrated  water.  The  *  devil  shuddered,  but 
transformed  himself  into  a  mouse,  and  sprang 
into  the  vessel,  filled  with  holy  water,  which 
stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  church.  The  water 
hissed  and  boiled  as  if  glowing  iron  had  been 
thrown  into  it,  and  the  mouse  came  forth  severely 
scalded,  so  that  when  the  devil  again  adopted  his 
human  semblance,  he  was  covered  with  scars, 
such  as  are  occasioned  by  fire. 

The  Pan  was  driven  to  his  last  entrenchment : 
but  he  did  not  despair.  He  was  sure  of  his 
triumph  as  he  said : 

"  I  command  thee  to  live  a  whole  year  with 
my  dear  consort,  Panna  Twardowsky,  without 
forsaking  her  for  a  single  day." 

"  I  to  live  a  whole  year  with  Panna  Twar- 
dowsky!" retorted  the  vanquished  gentleman, 


PAN   TWARDOWSKY.  145 

chuckling.  "  No,  I  will  rather  return  to  hell  with- 
out thee.  Keep  your  Panna  and  your  soul ;  I 
cannot  fulfil  your  command.  An  ill-tempered 
woman  is  insupportable  to  the  devil  himself1" 


The  Polish  version  is  different.     It  says : 

When  the  Pan,  with  the  innocent  babe  in  his 
arms,  was  on  the  point  of  escaping,  the  devil 
saw  that  no  chance  was  left  for  getting  hold  of 
his  prey,  but  to  appeal  to  the  honour  of  the  Pan. 
The  subtle  rogue  therefore  said : 

"  Domine  Twardowsky,  verbum  nobile  debet 
esse  stabile."* 

This  was  more  than  the  Pan  could  withstand : 
the  devil  himself  had  recognised  his  nobility, 
the  most  ardent  desire  of  his  heart  was  fulfilled, 
he  replaced  the  child  in  its  cradle,  and  gave  him- 
self up. 

lanko,  the  faithful  servant,  who  ever  followed 
him,  did  not  now  abandon  his  master  ;  but 

*  The  word  of  a  nobleman  must  be  kept. 
7 


146  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

clung  to  the  feet  of  the  Pan,  and  was  carried 
along  with  him  in  storm-like  rapidity  through 
the  air.  When  they  were  already  so  far  above 
the  clouds,  that  the  earth  appeared  not  bigger 
than  a  nut-shell,  the  Pan  began, to  sing  one  of 
the  hymns,  which  in  youth  he  had  composed  in 
honour  of  the  holy  Virgin,  and  which  after  many 
years,  for  the  first  time  again  struck  his  memory. 
When  the  pious  tunes  and  the  sacred  names 
were  uttered,  the  devil  lost  his  power — and  fled. 
The  Pan  and  his  faithful  lanko  remained  sus- 
pended in  the  air,  and  are  to  remain  there,  until 
the  great  day  of  judgment  is  to  come,  and 
Unity  and  Justice  shall  reign  upon  earth,  and 
there  shall  be  one  shepherd  and  one  flock. 

Pan  Twardowsky  becomes  sorely  tired  in  his 
aerial  exile,  and  yearly  in  autumn  sends  his 
lanko  down  upon  earth.  The  faithful  servant, 
transformed  into  a  spider,  descends  upon  long 
cobwebs,  which  he  spins  about  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  returns  to  the  Pan,  to  inform  him 
that  there  are  yet  many  shepherds,  and  many 


PAN  TWARDOWSKY.  147 

flocks,  and  that  Unity  and  Justice  is  as  yet 
nowhere  to  be  found.  But  the  webs  lanko 
spun  are  carried  by  the  wind  over  the  plains, 
and  are  termed  by  men  the  threads  of  Autumn. 


THE   POOE   TAETAE. 

THE  moral  of  the  Twardowsky  tale  is  yet 
more  strongly  expressed  in  the  anecdote  of  the 
poor  Tartar,  a  story  well  known  all  over  Hun- 
gary. 

When  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  Tartars, 
led  by  their  chief,  Batu  Khan,  invaded  Hungary, 
and  King  Bela  was  forced  to  flee  from  the  dis- 
astrous battle  at  the  Sajo,  despair  seized  upon 
the  Hungarians.  Many  had  fallen  on  the  field, 
still  more  were  butchered  by  the  faithless 
enemy ;  some  sought  escape,  others  apathetically 
awaited  their  fate.  Amongst  these  was  a  no- 
bleman, who  lived  retired  on  his  property,  distant 


THE  POOR  TARTAR.  149 

from  every  high-road.  He  possessed  fine  herds, 
stately  horses,  rich  corn-fields,  and  a  well-stocked 
house,  built  but  recently  for  the  reception  of  his 
wife,  who  now  for  two  years  had  been  its 
mistress. 

The  disheartening  account  of  the  general 
misfortune  reached  this  secluded  shelter,  and  its 
peaceful  lord  was  horrified.  He  trembled  at 
every  sound — at  every  step ;  he  found  his  meals 
less  savoury.  His  very  sleep  was  troubled; 
he  often  sighed,  and  seemed  quite  lost  and 
wretched. 

Thus  anxiously  anticipating  the  days  to  come, 
he  sat  at  his  well-closed  window,  when  suddenly 
a  Tartar  on  his  steed  gallopped  into  the  court. 
The  Hungarian  bounced  from  his  seat,  ran  to 
meet  his  guest,  and  said : 

"  Tartar,  thou  art  -my  lord  ;  I  am  thy  servant; 
all  thou  seest  is  thine.  Take  what  thou  fanciest ; 
I  do  not  oppose  thy  power ;  command,  thy  ser- 
vant obeys." 

The  Tartar  impatiently  sprang  from  his 
horse,  entered  the  house,  and  cast  a  careless 


150  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

glance  on  all  the  precious  objects  around.  His 
eye  was  fascinated  by  the  brilliant  beauty  of  the 
lady  of  the  house,  who  appeared  tastefully 
attired  to  greet  him  here,  no  less  graciously 
than  her  consort  had  in  the  court  below. 

The  Tartar  seized  her  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  and  unheedful  of  her  shrieks,  swung 
himself  upon  his  saddle,  and  spurred  away, 
carrying  off  his  lovely  booty. 

All  this  was  but  an  instant's  work;  the 
nobleman  was  thunderstruck,  yet  he  recovered, 
and  hastened  to  the  gate.  He  could  hardly 
still  distinguish  the  Tartar  galloping  in  the 
distance,  and  bearing  away  the  lady  fair. 

Her  consort  heaved  a  sigh,  and  exclaimed 
with  deep  commiseration :  "  Alas !  poor 
Tartar  F?  I  , 


THE  MAIDENS'  CASTLE. 

THE  Hungarians,  as  is  well  known,  mostly 
occupy  the  extensive  plains  of  the  country 
they  won  with  their  sword ;  the  mountainous 
parts  they  abandoned  to  the  Slovacks,  Wallacks 
and  Kuthenians,  retaining  for  their  own  culti- 
vation only  the  chain  of  the  Matra,  the  heights  of 
the  Biikk,  and  the  hills  of  the  Hegyalya,  where 
the  golden  Tokay  grows.  We  see  many  of  these 
elevations  crowned  with  picturesque  ruins  of 
castles,  destroyed  in  great  part  during  the 
Turkish  wars.  The  last  of  these  feudal  abodes 
were  demolished  at  the  desire  of  Maria  Theresa. 
She  disliked  the  aristocracy  to  be  reminded  by 


152  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

their  lofty  forts  of  their  once  more  independent 
position;  she  was  averse  to  the  powerful  landed 
proprietor  occupying  among  his  dependents 
the  place  ancient  castles  held  in  the  country, 
which  they  protected  and  swayed  over ;  but 
she  gladly  saw  the  Hungarian  Peers  at  Court, 
with  the  richly  embroidered  dress  replacing 
the  plain  cuirass,  and  the  powdered  wig  sub- 
stituted for  the  high  flowing  feather.  The 
scheme  succeeded ;  the  old  rebels  were  tamed 
and  the  ancient  castles  pulled  down.  But  the 
legends  and  tales  connected  with  them  could 
not  be  effaced  from  the  memory  of  the  people, 
which  seldom  cares  for  historical  facts,  but 
shapes  feats  and  events  according  to  its  own 
feelings  and  imagination,  bearing  to  reality  a 
similar  relation  to  that  in  which  tradition  stands 
to  legitimate  history. 


In   the   beech-woods   of  the   heights  of  the 
Biikk,  in  the  county  of  Borsod,  stand  the  ruins 


THE   MAIDENS7   CASTLE.  153 

i, 

of  two  abodes,  which,  in  ancient  times  pro- 
bably were  united  by  a  wall,  and  formed  but 
one  castle.  They  were  raised  ,on  the  two 
edges  of  a  ridge  of  hills. 

These  ruins,  popularly  called  "  The  Maidens' 
Castle,"  are  known  by  the  following  tale : 

A  fairy  lived  here,  and  at  her  command  the 
castle  had  been  erected.  No  one  knew  whence 
she  had  come  with  two  beautiful  children,  who 
resembled  each  other  like  drops  of  dew.  Both 
of  them  were  fair  and  delicate  as  the  pearls  of 
the  sea. 

When  Alma  felt  delight  in  hunting  the 
butterfly  through  the  shades  of  the  wood  to 
the  enamelled  meadows,  Mandula's  cheeks  too 
were  tinged  with  the  bright  colour  of  playful 
enjoj^ment.  "When  Mandula  spied  with  childish 
curiosity  the  glow-worm  which  she  fancied  to 
be  a  star  hidden  in  the  luxuriant  grass,  Alma  too 
peeped  from  behind  the  brushwood  with  a 
glance  as  shining  as  the  glow-worm  itself.  The 

twins  on  each  side  of  their  mother  seemed  two 

7 


154  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY, 

'  *       '  *      ^ 

unopened  buds,  rising  from  the  same  stem 
which  a  full-blown  white  rose  already  graced. 

The  days  passed  in  undisturbed  happiness, 
and  the  little  girls  grew  to  be  lovely  maidens. 
Once  at  sunset  when  the  evening  breathed  re- 
pose, and  Nature  smiled  so  bright  as  if  she  never 
could  be  darkened  by  clouds,  the  fairy  stood  on 
the  terrace  that  overlooked  the  wall  uniting  the 
wings  of  the  castle.  Alma  and  Mandula  sat 
at  her  feet,  selecting  garlands  of  ivy  with  which  to 
crown  their  beloved  mother.  She  looked  down 
upon  them  with  melancholy;  her  eyes  were 
bathed  in  tears ;  a  deep  sigh  escaped  her 
bosom.  The  daughters  looked  up;  their 
glances  expressed  the  anxiety  trembling  on 
their  lips.  They  rose  and  clung  to  their  parent. 
She  pressed  them  'to  her  heart ;  they  kissed 
her.  She  pressed  tnem  again ;  they  felt 
glowing  tears  on  their  cheeks,  and  she  also 
wept. 

" Mother!  mother!  why  do  you  weep?"  ex- 
claimed Mandula,  and  sank  down  on  her  knees. 


155 

It  was  the  first  time  she  experienced  grief.  The 
fairy  raised  her  up,  took  both  maidens'  hands  in 
her  own,  and,  after  a  painful  silence,  spoke  with 
broken  accents : 

"  My  children,  we  must  part.  The  Queen  of 
the  Fairies  commands,  and  I  must  obey.  But 
few  are  the  instants  granted  to  me  with  you. 
We  must  not  yield  to  overpowering  sorrow,  that 
at  least  I  may  leave  you  my  advice  and  my 
blessing,  with  tokens  of  my  motherly  affection. 
I  attempt  to  provide  for  your  future,  but  your 
fate  rests  in  your  own  hands;  it  can  only  be 
decided  by  yourselves.  Every  human  being 
pronounces  by  his  deeds  the  verdict  of  his  life, 
which  no  power  can  alter.  I  give  you  two 
golden  apples  :  to  these  youth,  beauty,  and 
happiness  are  bound  ;  but  to  preserve  them 
must  be  your  care  ;  over  this  I  have  no  control. 
Wisdom  cannot  be  bought ;  it  must  be  acquired. 
My  prayers  may  warn,  but  they  cannot  secure 
you.  Beware  of  passion.  It  lights  the  fire  of 
ecstacy,  which  melts  the  purest  treasures  of  the 
heart.  Thus  transformed,  they  easily  escape 


156  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

with  the  airy  clouds  of  imagination  ;  and  when 
the  flame  of  enthusiasm  has  burnt  out,  you 
remain  beggars,  without  love,  without  sympathy. 
Beware,  my  children ;  let  never  any  feeling,  any 
thought,  estrange  you  from  each  other  ;  then, 
only  then,  your  youth  will  never  fade,  any  more 
than  the  brilliancy  of  the  golden  apples  to  which 
your  lives  are  bound.  The  precious  fruit  con- 
tains the  vigour  of  your  existence;  watch  over 
these  my  last  keepsakes,  and  remember  my 
prayers,  my  warning." 

The  maidens  were  lost  in  a  labyrinth  of  woe. 
Their  happiness  had  been  so  perfect,  that  they 
never  dreamt  it  could  be  otherwise.  Now  they 
were  smitten  with  an  inexpressible  pang ;  they 
felt  destitute  and  wretched ;  their  consciousness 
forsook  them,  and  before  they  came  to  them- 
selves the  fairy  had  disappeared. 

Hours  passed.  The  rays  of  the  sun  warmed 
the  world  around,  but  gladdened  not  the  sisters ; 
the  icy  chill  of  misfortune  had  struck  their  young 
hearts.  Their  senses  could  hardly  believe  in 
the  reality  of  their  loss,  yet  it  was  so — their 


m 

THE  MAIDENS'  CASTLE.  157 

motlier  liad  departed.  They  knelt  in  speechless 
agony  on  the  spot  where  she  had  left  them  ; 
the  golden  apples  lay  at  their  side,  and  shed  a 
bright  lustre  on  the  blossoms  around.  At  last 
the  instinct  of  youth,  revolting  against  the  tor- 
ture of  pain,  melted  grief  into  tears.  Mandula 
sank  in  the  arms  of  Alma ;  they  clung  to  each 
other  in  tight  embrace;  their  hearts  throbbed; 
they  suffered,  but  were  relieved.  They  mutually 
guessed  every  unexpressed  feeling;  they  com- 
municated every  thought ;  they  recapitulated 
what  their  mother  had  spoken ;  they  tried  to 
recal  every  word.  Their  eyes  rested  on  the 
keepsakes  sha  had  left ;  they  pressed  them  to 
their  lips,  and  gazed  on  them  with  tender  emo- 
tions of  sorrow  and  gratitude.  Hardly  remem- 
bering that  the  gifts  had  intrinsic  virtue,  they 
treasured  them  up  as  the  last  tokens  of  their 
mother's  affection. 

Alma  retired  to  the  right  wing  of  the  castle, 
Mandula  to  the  left ;  but  it  was  only  to  repair 
again  to  her  sister.  Both  indulged  their  regret 
in  communion,  and  felt  that  united  tears  give 


158  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

birth  to  consolation.  Neither  of  the  sisters  had 
a  pleasure  by  herself;  they  had  no  enjoyment 
but  when  together,  or  when  occupied  for  one 
another.  Alma  watered  Mandula's  flowers ; 
Mandula  selected  the  most  beautiful  blossoms  of 
Alma's  garden  to  adorn  her  beloved  com- 
panion. They  caressed  each  other  like  the 
billing-doves  of  their  turrets  ;  nor  did  the  white 
fawn  they  fed  in  common  know  whether  it  was 
Alma's  or  Mandula's  hand  which  offered  to  it  the 
herbs  and  the  sugar. 

Their  favourite  recreation  was  to  admire 
the  golden  apples,  to  behold  themselves  in 
their  polished  surface,  and  to  compare  them, 
wondering  which  reflected  more  distinctly  their 
own  smiling  countenances.  On  their  rosy  fin- 
gers they  balanced  the  apples,  and  exchanged 
and  returned  them,  and  exchanged  them  again, 
to  see  if  they  could  be  distinguished  from  one 
another.  This  playful  pastime  was  so  often 
repeated,  that  the  sisters  quite  forgot  which  of 
the  apples  was  Alma's,  which  Mandula's.  But 
what  did  they  care?  Did  not  Alma  see  with 


THE  MAIDENS'  CASTLE.  159 

her  sister's  glance  ?  Did  not  Mandula  breathe 
with  her  companion's  smile,  whom  she  loved 
better  than  her  own  self? 

They  at  last  determined  to  keep  reciprocally 
the  emblems  of  their  fate.  Their  fate,  they 
deemed,  could  be  but  one  and  the  same;  how 
could  ever  one  remain  happy  without  the  other  ? 
.And  each  thought  her  treasure  safer  with  her 
sister  than  with  herself. 

Days,  weeks,  months,  passed  in  happy  dreams 
of  immutable  communion.  One  evening  the 
sisters  sat  at  their  window,  when  the  unwonted 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoof  clattered  in  the  court  of 
the  castle.  A  handsome  young  sportsman  had 
lost  his  way  pursuing  the  trace  of  a  white  fawn 
which  led  him  to  the  double  castle  of  the  sisters. 
They  both  greeted  him  with  gracious  hospitality, 
offering  shelter  and  rest.  He  gladly  accepted  it, 
but  found  no  repose  in  the  silk-curtained  bed. 
"When  he  closed  his  eyes,  two  maidenly  counte- 
nances flitted  before  his  mind.  He  longed  to 
contemplate  them,  but  when  he  attempted  to  do 
so,  the  delicate  features  melted  in  the  dazzling 


160  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

light  of  a  distant  star,  from  which  two  meteors 
shot  down,  and,  transformed  into  arrows,  hit  the 
throbbing  heart  of  the  young  man.  He  awoke 
with  a  start,  but  reclosed  his  eyes  to  behold  the* 
alluring  dream  again. 

When  he  met  the  twins  next  day,  his  dream 
seemed  almost  revived  :  both  appeared  beautiful 
as  the  morning  star ;  both  met  his  glance  with , 
the  same  blush,  both  with  the  same  thrilling 
pulse.  And  when  the  young  sportsman  took 
leave,  and  requested  permission  to  return,  both 
sisters  bowed  their  heads  and  lisped  "  Come 
again." 

When  he  was  gone,  each  retired  to  her  wing  of 
the  castle,  and  when  they  joined  in  their  accus- 
tomed walks,  they  spoke  of  their  flowers,  their 
birds,  and  their  fawn,  but  never  of  him  who  was 
equally  present  to  both  minds  and  both  hearts. 
He  came  again;  and  every  time  he  left,  the 
sisters  felt  more  estranged  from  each  other. 
Alma  found  fault  with  Mandula ;  Mandula  grew 
timid  in  the  presence  of  her  sister,  whose  looks 
and  very  movements  expressed  displeasure  and 


THE  MAIDENS'  CASTLE.  161 

distaste.  Mandula  sought  solitude ;  unconsciously 
to  herself  she  shunned  all  explanation. 

One  afternoon— -it  was  dusky,  and  heavy 
clouds  threatened  a  shower — Mandula  bowed 
over  a  magnificent  bush  of  roses,  collecting  the 
finest  of  them  in  a  bunch.  Alma  stood  in  the 
veranda : 

"  Why  dost  thou  rob  the  garden  of  its  adorn- 
ment?" she  called  to  her  sister  in  a  tone  of  re- 
proach. 

"  The  rain  will  crush  all  the  flowers ;  is  it  not 
better  that  these  be  saved?"  replied  Mandula, 
carrying  her  bunch  to  the  house. 

"  No,  no,  my  head  aches;  I  cannot  bear 
the  strong  fragrance,"  objected  Alma  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Art  thou  ill  ?"  inquired  the  other.  "  Yes, 
thou  lookest  flushed — now  thou  art  pale — say, 
what  aileththee?" 

"Dost  thou  care  for  it?  Thou  dislikest  my 
look ;  do  not  others  too  ?  Have  they  not  told 
thee?" 


162  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Mandula  felt  that  her  sister  was  hurt — slie 
longed  to  throw  her  arms  round  her  neck,  to  kiss 
off  the  offence ;  but  steps  approached,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  sportsman  entered. 

Both  sisters  greeted  him  warmly;  Mandula 
offered  one  of  the  roses  she  held  in  her  hand : 

"  What  a  sweet  welcome!"  exclaimed  he  joy- 
fully. 

Alma  heard  no  more,  she  darted  from  the 
room,  and  flung  the  door  violently  after  her. 
Mandula  rose ;  she  felt  confused — the  visitor 
uttered  a  hasty  excuse,  mentioning  the  weather, 
and  withdrew.  Mandula  followed  her  sister — 
but  found  no  access ;  the  door  of  Alma's  apart- 
ment was  locked. 

Mandula  retired  to  her  lonely  castle  ;  her  tears 
flowed  too  burning  to  cool  her  glowing  cheeks  ; 
she  longed  to  be  reconciled  to  her  sister — she 
wished  to  force  her  door — to  entreat  forgiveness. 
But  for  what  offence  ?  what  could  she  say  ? 
what  could  she  promise?  She  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands,  and  invoked  the  memory  of 


THE  MAIDENS7   CASTLE.  163 

her  mother,  to  calm  her  overpowering  emo- 
tions. 

Alma,  with  a  chill  in  her  veins  and  bitterness 
in  heart,  shut  herself  up.  She  recapitulated 
the  wrongs  of  her  sister ;  she  frowned,  and 
defyingly  glanced  around.  Her  eye  was  caught 
by  the  golden  apple  resting  in  the  marble  niche 
on  a  crimson  cushion,  where  her  own  name,  in- 
terlaced with  Mandula's,  was  embroidered  by  her 
sister's  hand.  This  keepsake,  once  her  favourite, 
seemed  now  an  insult.  Cold  as  the  marble 
wall,  which  protected  the  talisman  entrusted  to 
her,  she  seized  the  golden  apple ;  she  pressed  it 
in  her  hands,  as  if  she  could  crush  it;  she 
relaxed  it  again,  put  it  back  in  the  niche, 
walked  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  bewil- 
dered look,  struck  her  breast  violently,  crossed 
her  arms,  and  stared  at  the  apple  with  fixed 
gaze. 

After  a  pause,  she  again  grasped  the  apple, 
rushed  to  the  balcony,  flung  it  violently  down ; 
it  was  dashed  to  atoms; — and  she  precipitated 
herself  after  it  into  the  court  below. 


164  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

But  hardly  had  she  touched  the  ground, 
when  she  was  rooted  to  it ;  her  arms  were 
transformed  into  branches,  and  she  was  meta- 
morphosed into  an  apple-tree. 

The  apple  she  had  destroyed  had  been  her 
own,  not  her  sister's,  whose  existence  she  had 
deemed  she  held  in  her  power.  The  golden 
fruit  had  so  often  been  exchanged,  that  Alma 
had  kept  her  own,  whilst  she  believed  it  to  be 
Mandula's. 

She  saw  her  sister  preferred  by  the  sports- 
man, without  whose  love  she  would  not  live, 
but  neither  should  a  hated  rival  survive  her. 
This  was  why  she  dashed  down  the  apple,  and 
precipitated  herself  after  it. 

Years  rolled  on,  and  found  the  young  sports- 

9. 
man  united  to  Mandula. 

They  often  sat  in  the  court  of  the  castle,  over- 
shadowed by  the  blooming  apple-tree,  happy 
amidst  their  family ;  but  they  remembered  with 
regret  the  fate  of  their  sister,  and  more  than  one 
tear  bedewed  the  blossoms  strewed  around  by 
the  summer's  breeze. 


THE  MAIDENS'  CASTLE.  165 

Centuries  have  passed  since,  and  cattle  graze 
on  the  height  of  the  Biikk.  The  herdsmen 
admire  the  magnificent  bloom  of  the  apple- 
tree,  but  no  one  has  ever  seen  it  blessed  with 
fruit. 


THE  HAIR  OP  THE  ORPHAN  GIRL. 

AT  every  election  in  Hungary  each  of  the 
parties  chooses  its  standard,  and  its  party  sign, 
which  they  wear  on  their  hats ;  a  rose,  a  green 
branch,  a  cock,  or  an  ostrich  feather.  The 
prettiest  of  the  signs  is  no  doubt  the  feather- 
grass,  bearing  from  afar  the  semblance  of  a 
paradise-bird ;  it  is  extremely  sensitive,  unfold- 
ing of  itself  when  exposed  to  the  sun's  rays, 
whilst  its  delicate  fibres  shrink  during  rain. 

In  Hungary  this  plant  is  called  "  the  hair  of 
the  orphan  girl."  The  origin  of  this  name  is 
explained  by  popular  tradition  in  the  following 
manner : 

A  lovely  maiden  was  married  to  a  nobleman. 


THE  HAIR  OF  THE   ORPHAN  GIRL.        167 

She  was  a  favourite  with  Ellen,  the  Queen  of  the 
Fairies,  who  stood  godmother  to  her  friend's 
first  child,  a  wonderfully  fair  little  girl.  The 
mother  soon  died  after  the  birth  of  the  baby ; 
and  her  last  consolation  had  been  the  promise  of 
the  Queen  of  the  Fairies  never  to  forsake  the 
motherless  Ellen,  for  so  was  she  called  after  her 
godmother.  The  father  deeply  mourned  the 
loss  of  his  wife,  and  the  baby  was  entrusted  to  a 
nurse. 

A  full  year  passed  away.  The  nobleman  had 
soothed  his  sorrow  by  mourning,  and  now 
sought  his  friends  again ;  and  they  so  often 
repeated  to  him :  "  It  is  not  good  for  the  man 
to  be  alone,"  that  he  at  last  allowed  himself  to 
be  married  to  a  good-looking  widow.  He  soon 
became  aware  that  she  was  fully  accomplished 
in  the  art  of  rule,  and  he  himself  being  endowed 
with  a  quiet  temper,  abandoned  to  her  what  she 
termed  "  her  share,"  viz.  :  the  irresponsible 
government  of  the  household,  including  her  hus- 
band's estates,  and  himself. 

The  lady  had  two  daughters,  and  little  cared 
to  educate  a  third.  Ellen  was  left  with  her 


168  POPULAR   TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

nurse,  a  good  woman,  who  had  more  work  than 
wealth,  but  whose  love  for  the  orphan  was  not 
less  than  for  her  own  girl,  at  whose  grave  she 
often  prayed  and  wept. 

The  foster-child  throve  in  the  fields  and  mea- 
dows. There  she  roamed  about,  and  breathed 
the  fresh  air  that  playfully  fanned  her  waving 
hair,  as  brilliant  in  hue  as  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
Her  father  visited  her  seldom,  but  when  he  came, 
he  always  found  her  improved  in  looks  and  in 
wit.  She  knew  every  herb  and  its  virtue ;  she 
not  only  assisted  in  breaking  and  hatching  her 
hemp,  but  she  had  likewise  learnt  to  spin  like  a 
great  girl,  and  the  thread  on  her  distaff  was  equal 
to  any  in  the  whole  village. 

And  though  she  shunned  no  work  and  no 
sun,  yet,  as  the  foster-mother  said,  she  always 
remained  a  young  lady  from  top  to  toe,  with 
hands  as  delicate  and  transparent  as  if  solely 
created  to  be  looked  at  and  longed  for.  When 
her  father  inquired,  "  Who  taught  her  all  her 
wisdom  ?"  she  replied : 

"  My  godmother.  To  her  I  repeat  the  songs 
I  hear  of  the  birds  in  the  fields  ;  to  her  I  recount 


THE    HAIR   OF  THE   ORPHAN  GIRL.         169 

what  I  do  all  day  long ;  and  she  smiles  and  tells 
me  how  good  my  mother  is,  who  watches  from 
heaven  all  I  do,  and  there  prays  for  my  weal." 

The  father  wiped  a  tear  in  his  eye,  and  blessed 
the  child ;  and  when  he  came  home,  he  said  to 
his  wife : 

"  My  dearest  soul !  Ellen  is  growing  up  ;  you 
must  have  her  brought  home." 

"Yes,  yes,"  his  consort  replied,  "when  our 
daughters  get  stronger.  Now  the  little  thing 
would  be  too  noisy;  it  would  try  their  nerves 
and  interfere  with  their  studies." 

In  this  case,  as  in  many  others,  appearances 
must  have  been  deceptive ;  for  though  the  two 
daughters  seemed  as  firmly  built  as  any  of  the 
buxom  peasant-girls  in  the  village,  they  must 
long  have  remained  weak,  for  years  came  and 
went,  and  the  orphan  was  still  with  her  affec- 
tionate nurse.  Why  might  she  not  have 
remained  there  for  ever?  thought  she,  when 
at  last  her  stepmother  came  and  com- 
manded her  to  take  off  her  purple  skirt, 
and  purple  boots,  and  her  gaudy  stays,  and 

put  on  a  homely  grey  frock,  and  a  black  apron, 
8 


170  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

and  to  twist  her  flowing  hair  under  a  close-fitting 
cap. 

"Oh,  that  she  might  have  remained  with  her 
nurse  for  ever!  was  her  inward  thought,  after 
she  had  been  taken  to  her  father's  house,  where 
she  met  stern  looks  and  unkind  words.  What- 
ever she  did  was  called  awkward,  though  she 
did  her  best  to  please  the  whims  of  the  three 
ladies.  But  her  sisters  told  her  so  incessantly 
that  she  was  a  silly  child,  that  she  at  last  be- 
lieved it,  and  often  wept  over  her  own  ignorance. 
On  this  she  was  chidden  as  a  "  whimpering 
good-for-nothing  creature"  by  her  step-mother, 
who  did  not  like  her  the  better  for  her  uncom- 
mon beauty,  now  breaking  forth  from  the  twilight 
of  childhood  into  the  radiant  magnificence  of 
womanhood.  And  when  her  father's  eye  fondly 
rested  upon  the  orphan,  his  lady  never  failed  to 
remark : 

"Do  not  make  her  vain.  You  know  her 
mother  left  her  penniless.  •  You  know  your 
estate  was  encumbered  when  I  came  into  the 
house.  I  spent  my  whole  fortune  to  disengage 
it,  and  to  put  it  in  a  decent  state.  You  know 


THE   HAIR   OF   THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.          171 

my  improvements  amount  to  more  than  the 
value  of  the  whole  property  :  this  of  course 
must,  according  to  law,  come  back  to  my. 
daughters.  We  therefore  have  nothing  to  dis- 
pose of  in  favour  of  Ellen." 

On  this  the  father  sighed,  called  for  his  car- 
riage, drove  to  a  distant  farm,  and  did  not 
return  till  after  sunset. 

Little  Ellen  had  grown  to  be  a  lovely  young 
woman,  and  attracted  the  notice  of  all  who 
saw  her.  As  the  lady-mistress  did  not  think 
this  desirable,  she  gave  her  charge  of  all  the 
household  affairs;  and  when  guests  filled  the 
house,  the  orphan  had  to  attend  the  larder  and 
the  kitchen.  When  the  sisters  drove  to  the 
ball,  she  had  to  assist  at  their  toilets,  and  to 
guard  the  house  during  the  absence  of  the 
family.  She  then  sat  in  her  desolate  room, 
pondering  what  a  ball  could  be,  and  fancying 
that  it  certainly  was  the  realization  of  one  of  the 
brilliant  tales  her  godmother  had  been  wont  to 
tell  her.  Her  dear  godmother — the  lovely 
woman  with  the  blissful  smile  and  the  benignant 
glance !  Ellen  began  to  weep  when  she  thought 


172  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

of  her,  who  had  never  appeared  since  she  re- 
turned to  the  house  of  her  father,  where  she 
was  more  motherless  than  she  had  ever  felt  with 
her  good  nurse,  who  called  her  "my  own  little 
pet,"  a  phrase  at  which  the  lady  step-mother  had 
been  very  cross  when  the  poor  woman  once  called 
at  the  manor. 

Ellen  was  so  fully  taken  up  with  her  thoughts 
and  her  feelings,  that  she  hardly  noticed  a  well- 
known  step,  which  approached  her.  The  kind 
nurse  had  seen  the  ladies  depart,  and  knowing 
that  the  lord  was  at  the  county  meeting,  she 
longed  for  a  chat  with  her  pet,  whom  she  knew 
to  be  by  herself;  and  after  she  had  ended  her 
work,  she  came  up,  though  it  was  late,  to  say 
that  in  the  afternoon  she  had  returned  from  the 
market  in  town,  where  she  had  been  to  sell 
her  turkeys;  and  that  everybody  spoke  of 
the  great  festivity  to  be  held  at  court,  where  all 
the  ladies  of  the  whole  realm  were  to  appear, 
as  the  old  King  had  given  up  his  throne  to  his 
illustrious  Prince,  and  wished  him  to  marry,  but 
that  he  had  declared  that  he  would  marry  none, 
but  the  fairest  of  all  the  Hungarian  ladies ; 


THE   HAIR   OF   THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.          173 

that  therefore  all  the  ladies  of  the  whole  realm 
were  to  appear  at  the  ball.  The  good  nurse 
said,  that  she  had  directly  thought  ef  her  pet, 
the  fairest  child  under  the  sun. 

"  Only  in  your  eyes,  my  dear  soul,"  inter- 
posed Ellen.  "  I  am  homely  to  every  one  else, 
be  assured :  so  says  my  stepmother,  and  my 
father  does  not  gainsay  it;  and  you  know  he 
always  has  been  kind  to  me.  Yes,  I  must  be 
homely;  no  one  c^res  for  me,  except  you,  my 
soul." 

But  the  good  nurse  reiterated  the  contrary 
so  positively,  and  with  such  affectionate  gar- 
rulity, that  the  orphan  felt  a  little  cheered, 
and  even  entertained  a  very  slight  hope  that, 
perhaps,  she  might  be  allowed  to  have  a  peep 
at  the  ball,  which  every  o$e  was  to  attend. 
She  embraced  her  nurse,  who  promised  to  call 
again ;  and  she  .fell  soon  asleep,  half  in  tears, 
half  in  smiles.  She  started  up  at  dawn,  and 
hastily  dressed,  and  feared  that  she  awoke  too 
late  ;  all  was  silent  ^  but  she  remembered  that 
bread  was  to  be  baked,  and  she  ran  down, 
calling  "Josi,"  and  gently  tapped  on  the 


174  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

shoulder  of  the  gipsey  boy,  who  slept  on  the 
threshold,  but  gladly  opened  his  eyes,  though 
not  without  rubbing  them  very  hard,  and  jumped 
up,  when  he  perceived  his  young  mistress,  who 
bid  him  light  the  fire. 

With  an  active  step  she  moved  over  the 
whole  house,  and  called  every  one  up,  and 
dispensed  breakfast  to  all,  not  forgetful  of  the 
dog  and  the  poultry.  And  the  sun  shone  so 
bright,  and  approaching  spring  breathed  so 
sweet,  that  Ellen  felt  quite  happy,  and  did  not 
start — as  sometimes  she  happened  to  do — 
when  the  carriage  rolled  into  the  court.  But 
she  ran  to  meet  the  lady  and  her  daughters, 
who,  tired  and  cross,  claimed  her  attendance. 

The  dream  was  dispelled,  and  the  poor 
orphan  obeyed  in^ilent  submission. 

The  tidings  of  the  festivity  at  court  were  soon 
spread  all  over  the  country;  the  excitement 
created  by  the  important  event  was  without 
precedent.  Mothers  and  daughters  conjured  up 
all  their  charms,  and  called  into  requisition  all 
their  resources.  All  thronged  to  the  capital, 
and  stormed  the  shops,  engaging  the  attendance 


THE   HAIR  OF  THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.        175 

of  tailors,  Hair-dressers,  milliners,  and  every 
artist  wlio  could  in  any  way  improve  looks  and 
figure.  The  Jews  liad  busy  days;  property 
was  pawned ;  jewels  and  plate  sold  to  borrow 
more  splendid  ornaments  for  the  great  occasion. 
Could  anything  appear  extravagant,  when  the 
royal  hand  was  to  be  won  ?  So  thought 
Ellen's  stepmother,  and  acted  accordingly. 
Gold-embroidered  velvet  for  herself,  silver 
garlands  for  her  daughters  ;  laces  and  gems 
were  purchased,  and  prepared.  Messengers 
went  and  came,  none  brought  a  parcel  for  poor 
Ellen,  who  had  no  courage  to  inquire,  if  now 
too  she  was  to  stay,  and  keep  the  house.  And 
why  should  she  inquire?  Did  she  not  know 
that  she  was  a  penniless  orphan  ?  What  could 
she  seek  at  court?  No  mother's  hand  would 
ornament  her' brow,  no  mother's  eye  would 
watch  her  gait.  How  should  she  go  to  court  ? 
No,  no ;  much  better  to  stay  at  home  than  in- 
trude into  the  golden  halls,  where  all  would  shine 
and  smile,  but  no  glance  would  beam  on  her 
with  sympathy  and  joy. 

Such  consolation  flitted  before  the  mind  of 


176  POPULAR   TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

the  girl ;  and  when  her  father  said  to  her, 
"  Dear  child,  I  gladly  would  have  taken  thee> 
but  thou  art  yet  too  young ;  it  is  better  for  thee 
to  stay  at  home,"  she  kissed  his  hand,  and 
hardly  could  have  told  why  a  sigh  then  escaped 
her  breast.  She  served  and  packed,  and  saw 
the  carriage  drive  up  the  court,  and  the  family 
depart,  followed  by  more  horses  and  more 
stately  servants  than  she  ever  had  seen  before. 
She  watched  them  all  until  they  had  turned 
around  the  corner  of  the  house,  then  she  re- 
treated to  the  yard,  and  caressed  the  barking 
watch- dog,  who  wagged  his  tail  at  her  approach, 
and  licked  her  round  little  hand.  She  felt 
lonely — she  felt  sad  ;  she  could  have  wept :  she 
knew  not  why.  Was  not  all  for  the  best? 
She  stepped  to  her  room,  and  took  up  the 
legends  of  the  saints.  But  the  letters  caught 
her  eye  only,  not  her  mind;  she  could  not 
read  ;  she  could  not  think  ;  her  book  fell  on  her 
lap ;  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hand,  and  sobbed 
bitterly.  Suddenly  a  silver  voice  thrilled  to  her 
heart;  she  glanced  up  with  tearful  eyes,  and 
a  blushing  brow.  She  had  not  heard  the  creak  - 


THE   HAIR   OF   THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.         177 

ing  of  the  door,  the  fall  of  a  step,  and  yet  here 
stood  a  radiant  lovely  woman,  her  own  dear, 
dear  godmother. 

Ellen  found  herself  in  her  arms  before  she 
could  pronounce  a  single  word.  The  fairy 
smoothed  the  maiden 's  golden  hair,  and  said : 
"  My  dove,  come,  let  me  adorn  thee  for  the 
festival."  Before  Ellen  had  recovered  from  her 
joyful  surprise,  she  was  seated  in  a  stately  coach 
drawn  by  six  spotless  horses. 

At  court  all  was  bustle  and  excitement.  The 
hall  could  hardly  hold  the  throng  of  guests. 
The  fresh  flowers  which  covered  the  marble  walls 
looked  faint  in  comparison  with  the  women  of 
Hungary.  Their  brilliant  complexion  and 
sparkling  eyes,  still  more  than-  the  splendour 
by  which  they  were  surrounded,  recalled  the 
voluptuous  brightness  of  the  East.  They  stood 
around  with  palpitating  hearts  and  flushed 
cheeks.  The  mothers  whispered;  the  fathers 
formed  in  different  groups;  whilst  the  young 
men  ambitiously  sought  to  catch  a  smile  or  a 
glance,  soon  to  be  absorbed  they  knew,  by  that 
one  centre  of  admiration,  the  young  King,  who 


178  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUKGARY. 

had  not  yet  appeared.  The  minutes,  by  expecta- 
tion, seemed  to  grow  into  hours.  At  last  the 
trumpets  and  viols  announced  his  approach,  and 
he  was  seen.  His  noble  features,  which  were 
stamped  with  a  gentle  and  kind  expression, 
made  many  a  heart  beat  quick.  The  intoxicating 
whirl  of  the  dance  began,  and  ambition  soon  was 
drowned  in  thoughtless  joy.  But  suddenly  all 
faces  were  turned ;  surprise  thrilled  through  the 
whole  company,  when  the  young  King  stepped 
forth  with  a  partner,  whose  loveliness  envy  itself 
could  not  deny.  Her  countenance  beamed  with 
child-like  unconsciousness  ;  every  one  of  her 
movements  was  graceful  as  the  waving  of  her 
hair,  which  shone  behind  the  silvery  clouds  of 
the  veil  that  covered  her  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  was  fastened  by  golden  tresses  woven 
into  a  diadem.  A  velvet  corslet  closely  fitted 
her  waist,  where  a  pearl-embroidered  apron  was 
fastened ;  and  her  skirt  of  white  satin  sparkled 
with  peerless  flowers.  Every  eye  was  dazzled  by 
the  brilliancy  of  her  attire,  and  riveted  by-  her 
beautiful  features.  JSTo  -one  disputed  that  she 


THE   HAIK   OF   THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.          179 

was  the  rightful  queen  of  the  festival :  hers  was 
the  acknowledged  crown. 

The  Prince  led  her  to  the  dance ;  he  held  her 
hand,  and  still  remained  at  her  side,  when  the 
other  gentlemen  had  already  more  than  once 
changed  partners.  The  dance  was  over,  a  general 
movement  led  old  and  young  to  the  adjoining 
hall ;  the  pairs  were  broken  up.  The  old  King 
addressed  his  son,  and  pointed  to  the  admired 
young  lady.  The  Prince  turned  round  to  follow 
her — but  she  was  gone, — whither  ?  no  one 
could  tell !  The  music  sounded  again,  the  dance 
was  renewed,  but  the  young  King  did  not  join 
it.  With  his  partner  every  charm  had  disap- 
peared. But  who  was  she  ?  no  one  was  found 
to  know. 

When  the  step-mother  returned  home  with 
her  daughters,  they  found  Ellen  attentive,  as 
usual,  to  the  household.  They  spoke  of  nothing 
but  of  the  royal  ball,  and  of  the  unknown  lady 
who  had  obviously  charmed  the  Sovereign.  No 
wonder,  said  they,  that  she  looked  beautiful  with 
such  a  dress,  set  off  by  the  glance  of  diamond- 


180  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

stars.  Whoever  can  afford  sucli  finery  is  sure 
to  strike. 

They  compared  themselves  with  the  myste- 
rious apparition,  and  concluded  that  if  they 
could  next  time  appear  with  more  magnificence, 
they  would  be  sure  to  stand  their  ground  against 
the  "  elfish  beauty." 

Ellen  listened  and  thought :  "  They  are  not 
quite  wrong :  the  dress  did  vastly  alter  me,  as 
they  never  recognised  the  homely  Ellen  in  that 
shining  *  garb."  She  smiled,  but  breathed  not 
her  secret;  her  god-mother  had  recommended 
silence.  Moreover,  not  for  this  alone  she  did 
not  speak  ;  she  had  entered  into  a  new  life  since 
the  glance  of  love  had  warmed,  her  cheeks  ;  she 
now  felt  as  though  she  were  another  being,  not 
the  poor  forlorn  orphan,  but  richer,  when  alone, 
with  memory  as  her  companion,  than  she  had 
been  in  the  midst  of  all  the  vying  splen- 
dours. 

Ever  since  the  maiden  with  the  golden  hair 
had  disappeared,  the  young  King  had  no  care  or 
interest  in  anything ;  his  life  was  nothing  but  a 
sigh  of  longing.  She  ever  flitted  before  his  mind 


THE    HAIR   OF  THE   ORPHAN   GIRL,          181 

with  the  glorious  diadem  given  her  by  nature,  to 
mark  her  out  as  Queen ;  his  throne  seemed  to 
him  to  be  hers  by  right,  that  he  was  himself 
a  usurper,  until  she  should  share  its  honours. 
He  therefore  sent  all  around  messengers  to  cry 
aloud  and  say :  Seeing  that  Heaven  has  marked 
out  the  legitimate  Queen  by  her  golden  hair, 
let  her  who  is  endowed  with  it  appear,  to  be 
led  to  the.  altar  by  her  King.  Great  recom- 
pense was  promised  to  any  one  who  could 
trace  her. 

The  step-mother  had  strictly  enjoined  Ellen 
never  to  leave  off  her  cap,  for  which  she  had 
reasons  of  her  own.  She  knew  what  hair  the 
orphan  had,  and  always  had  surmised  that 
some  mysterious  spell  was  connected  with  it. 

When  the  golden  hair  was  pointed  out  as  the 
infallible  sign  of  destined  royalty,  the  lady  was 
struck  with  the  thought  of  transferring  the 
orphan's  hair  to  the  head  of  one  of  her  own 
daughters,  who  then  would  shine  in  unrivalled 
magnificence.  "With  this  view  she  rose  from 
her  bed  when  all  were  fast  asleep,  and  entered 
the  small  room  of  the  orphan.  There  she  drew 


182  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

forth,  lier  largest  scissors,  and  slily  cut  the  golden 
treasure. 

Ellen  slept  an  infant's  sleep  and  never  woke 
till  tlie  cock  crowed.  She  then  shook  off  the 
sweet  repose,  and  alas !  missed  her  curly  hair. 
She  sprang  bewildered  up.  Who  could  have 
stolen  it  from  her  ?  No  one  but  her  step-mother 
could  enter  unperceived,  for  she  alone  had  the 
key  of  the  passage,  which  joined  her  room  to  the 
wing  where  Ellen  slept.  Big  tears  rolled  down 
the  orphan's  cheeks,  as  she  silently  invoked  the 
help  of  her  god-mother. 

Hardly  had  the  dear  remembrance  thrilled 
through  her  heart,  when  the  fairy  stood  before 
her,  and  pressed  a  motherly  caress  on  her  head. 
At  this  soothing  touch  the  thinned  hair  wonder- 
fully grew,  and  unfolded  as  the  wings  of  a  soaring 
angel.  Ellen  fell  on  her  knees — the  Fairy  Queen 
had  disappeared.  The  orphan  felt  and  kissed 
her  restored  treasure,  and  twisted  it  up  more 
carefully  than  ever,  that  no  one  should  notice 
and  grudge  the  gift  of  her  dear  god-mother,  the 
beauty  which  had  attracted  his  eye. 

Meanwhile,    the    step-mother  was    shut    up 


THE  HAIR   OF  THE   ORPHAN  GIRL.        183 

with  her  daughter,  and  being  expert  in  con- 
trivances, she  shaved  the  head  of  the  young 
lady,  and  artfully  adorned  it  with  the  magnificent 
hair  of  which  she  had  deprived  the  orphan.  She 
so  cunningly  hid  her  artifice  that  she  made  every 
one  believe  her  daughter's  hair  was  thus  im- 
proved by  virtue  of  a  juice  she  had  prepared  of 
berries  and  of  herbs. 

The  gold  crown,  woven  by  the  inimitable 
hand  of  nature,  reflected  beauty  on  the  young 
brow  of  the  daughter,  who  gladly  followed  her 
ambitious  parent  to  Court.  The  eye  of  the  King 
was  bathed  in  joy  when  the  golden-haired  maiden 
was  announced ;  yet  he  grew  pale  when  he  beheld 
her,  so  unlike  the  image  in  his  heart.  Had  she, 
who  once  appeared,  stepped  down  from  heaven 
to  point  out  by  what  sign  -the  royal  bride  was 
to  be  recognised?  He  felt  he  could  not  love 
this  maiden,  and  yet  an  inexpressible  longing 
bound  his  heart  to  her  golden  hair.  He  there- 
fore, without  delay,  fixed  the  day  for  the  grand 
nuptials.  It  came.  A  sumptuous  procession 
slowly  moved  to  church ;  at  its  head  was  the 


184:  POPULAR   TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

King  on  his  black  steed,  and  the  bride  proudly 
borne  by  a  white  horse. 

The  skies  were  radiant  when  they  set  out ; 
but  when  they  approached  the  cathedral  a  peal 
of  thunder  rolled,  and  suddenly  a  mighty  storm 
arose,  which  tore  the  bridal  veil  from  the  head 
of  the  betrothed  ;  the  King  galloped  to  take 
hold  of  the  veil ;  another  whirling  gust  blinded 
all  around,  and  rent  the  borrowed  hair  from  the 
bewildered  bride,  who  remained  bald,  and  fainted. 
The  King,  with  a  stern  look,  commanded  his 
retinue  to  take  her  to  the  palace :  with  the  golden 
hair  all  his  attachment  to  the  maiden  had  fled. 
He  then  summoned  the  deceitful  mother  to 
confess  what  she  had  done.  She  told  her  crime, 
and  was  banished  for  ever  from  the  realm. 

Ellen  at  this  time  was  kneeling  at  the  rivulet 
behind  the  garden- wall,  where  she  was  washing 
linen ;  she  heard  the  clink  of  spurs,  and  of  a 
sword ;  she  turned  astonished  round ;  her 
hasty  movement  deranged  the  cap  which  had 
confined  her  rich  hair,  that  now  rolled  down 
and  unfolded  as  a  golden  cloak  reaching  to  the 
ground. 


THE  HAIR   OF  THE  ORPHAN  GIRL.         185 

Ellen  was  not  aware  of  this;  her  head  was 
bent  over  a  hand  which  held  her  own  ;  she  saw 
the  Prince,  and  her  dearest  wish  was  fulfilled. 

But  she  soon  was  raised  on  a  white  steed, 
and  triumphantly  carried  to  the  altar.  When 
the  bridal  procession  returned  over  the  heath 
from  the  cathedral  to  the  palace,  all  the  hills 
around  were  adorned  with  golden  bunches— the 
hair  which  the  storm  had  rent  from  the  false 
bride.  It  still  adorns  the  heath  of  Hungary, 
and  its  name,  "  the  hair  of  the  orphan  girl," 
reminds  the  shepherd  of  the  beautiful  Ellen. 


THE  EOCKS  OF  LIPNIK. 

AMONGST  all  the  rivers  of  Hungary  but  two 
bend  their  course  northward,  not  joining  the 
waters  of  the  Danube,  which  carries  all  the  other 
streams  to  the  Black  Sea.  The  Poprad  and  the 
Dunajetz,  in  the  county  of  Zips,  flow  to  the  great 
plain  of  Poland,  and  united  with  the  Vistula, 
hasten  to  the  Baltic. 

At  the  banks  of  the  Dunajetz,  the  Eed  Abbey 
marks  the  limits  of  Hungary  towards  Gralicia, 
seldom  visited  by  strangers,  except  by  patients 
who  seek  the  baths  of  Smerdzonka,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  village  of  Lipnik,  from  which 
the  guests  get  their  provisions.  The  villagers 


THE  EOCKS  OF  LIPNIK.  187 

who  bring  these  supplies  not  seldom  entertain  the 
guests  with  traditions  of  bygone  days. 

In  ancient  heathen  times,  Kullin,  a  powerful 
King,  ruled  over  this  country.  His  sway  ex- 
tended along  the  whole  range  of  the  Karpathians; 
his  herds  grazed  on  all  the  alpine  meadows; 
but  higher  up,  where  no  vegetation  springs 
forth,  the  mighty  Omna  reigned  over  the  barren 
rocks.  She  was  a  far-famed  sorceress,  not  im- 
mortal, but  in  possession  of  the  balm  of  youth. 
She  preserved  the  semblance  of  a  youthful 
woman,  though  she  was  many  centuries  old. 
Yet  whenever  she  neglected  to  smooth  her 
brow  with  the  youth-imparting  balm,  she  looked 
withered  and  weather-beaten  as  the  moss  of  the 
rocks.  Like  the  Thetis  of  ancient  mythology, 
she  had  the  power  to  adopt  every  shape,  and 
could  dazzle  the  human  eye,  but  her  heart  was 
of  stone,  for  it  had  been  petrified  by  the  lapse  of 
time. 

Prince  Wladin,  the  son  of  the  King,  was  the 
handsomest  youth  of  the  realm,  and  none  equalled 
him  in  skill  and  in  courage,  in  kindness  and 
generosity.  He  was  beloved  by  all,  but  by  none 


188  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

more  than  by  Adla,  the  pride  of  the  Court,  the 
favourite  of  the  Queen,  the  betrothed  of  the 
Prince. 

Once  upon  a  time  Wladin,  while  hunting, 
caught  sight  of  a  magnificent  chamois  of  un- 
common size.  He  followed  it  for  hours,  and 
left  his  .companions  far  behind.  Whenever  he 
thought  he  had  approached  it  near  enough  to 
strike  it  with  his  arrow,  it  slowly  climbed  farther 
up  the  steep  rock,  and  thus  induced  the  Prince 
to  follow  it  again.  It  allured  him  higher  and 
higher  to  the  brink  of  eternal  snow.  Just  when 
he  thought  it  was  within  his  reach,  the  chamois 
seemed  to  perceive  the  danger,  fixed  its  back- 
ward-bent horns  on  the  cliff  which  overhung 
the  precipice,  swung  itself  over  with  a  powerful 
leap,  and  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  Wladin. 
The  Prince,  disappointed  at  his  failure,  now 
sought  to  retreat.  He  had  so  eagerly  pursued 
his  prey,  that  he  had  not  noticed  the  steep 
height  which  he  had  climbed  up.  He  stood  on 
a  narrow  platform,  surrounded  by  giddy  abysses, 
and  perpendicular  rocks  ;  no  outlet  was  visible, 
nor  could  he  retrace  the  way  he  had  come.  He 


THE   ROCKS   OF   LIPNIK. 


189 


knew  that  in  descending,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  find  the  clefts  on  which  he  had  ascended, 
and  he  could  discern  no  path  on  any  other  side. 
He  sounded  his  bugle  to  give  notice  to  his 
companions,  but  the  sounds  died  away  without 
echo;  he  was  too  far  off  to  be  heard.  Dusk 
approached — night  came  on ;  he  eagerly 
awaited  the  dawn  of  the  morning,  which,  he 
thought,  might  light  up  some  unknown  path. 
Morning  came,  but  the  rays  of  the  sun  only 
showed  him  still  clearer  that  there  was  no  way 
out.  He  waited  till  the  evening,  every  attempt 
failed  to  climb  the  rock  above  him,  and  he 
thought  a  sudden  death  would  be  preferable  to 
hopeless  starvation;  but  on  the  very  moment 
when  he  approached  the  brink  of  the  precipice 
to  throw  himself  down,  he  heard  a  noise  as  the 
rustling  of  silk  garments.  He  turned  round, 
and  beheld  a  majestic  woman,  the  queen  of  the 
rocks. 

She  took  his  hand,  and  silently  beckoned 
him  to  follow.  Her  steps  seemed  to  create 
paths,  for  descent  was  easy.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  the  alpine  meadow  well  known  to  the 


190  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Prince,  Omna  pointed  at  his  retinue,  now 
visible  in  the  distance,  and  said:  "Wladin, 
thou  dost  not  further  require  my  aid."  But 
the  Prince  bent  his  knee,  and  pressing  the 
hand  which  had  led  him.  exclaimed:  "  Let  me 

s 

thank  thee  who  saved  me  from  destruction. 
It  is  not  death  I  feared,  but  there  is  one  whom 
I  love,  and  I  know  that  with  my  life  Adla  too 
would  be  lost,  who  would  not  survive  me; 
Adla!  the  peerless  beauty!  the  best  of  all 
women !  This  thought  alone  embittered  the 
danger  from  which  thou  hast  rescued  me.  Our 
gratitude  is  thine — thine  our  veneration  to  the 
last  of  our  days/' 

The  sorceress  smiled. 

"The  feelings  of  youth  are  passionate,  in 
gratitude  as  in  love,  but  they  vanish  soon. 
When  thou  seest  the  cloud,  from  which  thunder 
and  lightning  break  forth,  thou  wouldst  deem 
its  irresistible  power  lasting,  if  thou  hadst  not 
seen  that  a  ray  of  the  sun,  a  gust  of  the 
wind,  suffices  to  dispel  or  absorb  the  cloud. 
Thy  feelings  will  not  prove  more  lasting." 

"  My  gratitude  will  last  as  long  as  my  love, 


THE   BOOKS   OF   LIPOTK.  191 

and  my  love  ceases  but  with  my  life,"  replied 
Wladin. 

"We  shall  see,"  she  said,  and  disappeared 
behind  a  rock. 

Wladin  hastened  down  the  hill,  and  met  his 
companions  ;  who  after  having  anxiously  sought 
him  night  and  day,  had  given  him  up  as  lost. 
He  returned  to  the  court  of  his  father ;  the  Queen 
weeping  pressed  him  to  her  bosom ;  and  the 
eyes  of  Adla  were  radiant  with  tears,  and  with 
joy.  When  he  related  this  adventure,  the 
Queen  praised  Omna,  but  Adla  shuddered,  and 
said:  "I  fear  the  sorceress.  She  never  rejoices 
in  dispensing  benefits  ;  she  allures  man  without 
love;  she  seeks  the  wilderness,  stony  as  is  her 
heart.  Do  not  again  venture  near  her ;  do  not 
seek  the  mountains  which  hide  danger  and 
treason.  The  open  plain  smiles  in  the  light  of 
the  sun,  and  offers  the  sweet  breath  of  its 
flowers  to  every  sense.  The  realm  is  wide ; 
its  green  meadows  extend  in  the  valleys  below, 
where  men  have  erected  their  abodes.  There 
live  they,  over  whom  thou  shalt  sooner  or  later 


192  POPULAB  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

be  called  to  rule,  not  in  the  mountains,  the  dens 
of  wild  animals." 

"My  love,"  Wladin  jestingly  replied,  "the 
chase  is  the  image  of  war.  The  energy  of  men 
is  lulled  to  sleep  in  the  fertile  plain :  the  breeze 
of  the  mountain  gives  strength  to  the  arm,  to 
shield  these  who  peaceably  till  the  ground  below, 
where  the  horizon  is  shut  in.  Those  who  are  to 
hold  sway,  must  reign  from  above,  whence  they 
overlook  their  realm ;  they  must  seek  danger, 
that  they  may  be  ready  to  encounter  it,  when  it 
intrudes." 

The  Queen  joined  her  prayers  to  those  of  Adla: 
the  Prince  closed  her  lips  with  a  kiss. 


Kullin  was  the  best  of  fkthers,  but  as  long  as 
he  occupied  the  throne,  he  did  not  wish  his  son 
to  rule:  one  king  is  enough  for  the  realm,  'he 
thought.  Wladin  should  defend  it  if  attacked, 
he  should  wield  the  sword,  not  the  sceptre,  as 
long  as  the  crown  did  not  sit  on  his  brow  and 
press  it  with  the  weight  of  royal  duties.  As 
deep  peace  now  prevailed,  Wladin's  sword  rested 


THE  ROCKS  OF   LIPNIK.  193 

in  its  sheath,  and  he  often  roamed  through  the 
mountains  and  valleys  alone,  in  disguise,  to  ac- 
quaint himself  with  his  realm  and  its  inhabitants. 
Thus  one  hot  summer  morning  he  rode  over  the 
plain,  conversing  with  the  peasants  busy  at  the 
harvest ;  and  as  the  rays  of  the  sun  became  more 
burning,  he  turned  his  horse  to  the  shadows  of 
the  pine  forest  which  bordered  the  Karpathians. 
The  steed  and  the  rider  both  felt  tired  and 
thirsty,  and  he  looked  out  for  a  fountain.  He 
alighted  from  his  horse,  took  the  reins  in  his 
hand,  and  went  through  the  thicket,  where  the 
murmur  of  a  rivulet  was  audible.  When  he 
approached  it,  he  saw  a  peasant  girl  gathering 
strawberries,  which  spread  their  fragrance 
around. 

"  Wilt  thou  let  me  partake  of  thy  berries,  my 
girl  ?"  he  said. 

She  offered  them  courteously,  and  replied : 

"  I  have  been  long  in  collecting  them  ;  but  to 
you,  my  Prince,  I  gladly  give  them." 

"  Thou  knowest  me  ?" 

"  How  should  I  not?  Who  in  the  whole 
9 


194           POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

country  is  not  anxious  to  see  Prince  Wladin ; 
and  if  lie  has  once  seen  him,  can  he  ever  forget 
him  ?  My  father  took  me  to  town  three  years 
ago,  when  you  returned  home  at  the  head  of  the 
victorious  knights,  coming  from  the  bloody 
battle.  Hundreds  of  voices  shouted,  l  Here 
comes  the  hero  ! 7  and  all  the  ladies  who 
stood  at  the  windows,  and  waved  their  hand- 
kerchiefs from  the  balcony,  threw  garlands  at 
your  feet.  I  peeped  through  the  crowd,  and 
caught  just  a  glimpse  of  your  countenance. 
I  have  never  forgotten  this,  and  should  recog- 
nise you  amongt  thousands.  I  likewise  cried: 
1  Long  live  our  Prince  P  but  you  could  not  hear 
me :  my  accents  were  lost  in  the  noise." 

The  Prince  smiled  and  said  :  "I  certainly 
did  not  hear  it,  else  my  memory  would  have 
proved  as  faithful  as  thine.  Where  art  thou 
living,  my  pretty  girl  ?  In  the  woods,  I  am  sure, 
such  courtesy  is  not  taught," 

"  My  father  is  the  gamekeeper,  who  every 
week  carries  the  venison  to  Court ;  my  mother 
is  long  dead,  and  I  live  in  the  forest.  My  father 


THE  KOCKS  OF  LIPNIK.  195 

never  takes  me  with  him  but  on  great  occasions. 
He  leaves  me  at  home,  to  take  care  of  his  house 
and  his  clothes." 

"  Art  thou  quite  lonely?  Is  there  no  one  to 
converse  with  thee  ?  no  one  to  play  the  shalm 
under  thy  window  during  the  summer-night? 
no  one  to  wait  for  thee  at  the  dance  under  the 
linden-tree  ?" 

She  laughed,  and  calling  a  beautiful  grey- 
hound which  playfully  bit  the  grass,  she  pointed 
to  him : 

"Look,  this  is  my  faithful  one,  who  never 
leaves  me :  I  have  no  other.  He  understands 
my  every  movement ;  he  heeds  my  voice.  "When 
I  sleep,  he  watches  my  threshold.  He  is  fed 
by  my  hand,  which  he  licks  in  gratitude. 
When  I  am  at  work,  his  barking  warns  me  of 
the  approach  of  a  stranger ;  and  when  I  go  out 
he  accompanies  me.  He  even  watches  the  weather 
for  my  sake,  as  just  now — he  was  biting  the 
grass,  a  sure  sign  that  it  will  rain." 

"  He  is  quite  right,"  said  the  Prince :  "  heavy 
drops  begin  to  fall:  thou  must  hasten  home." 

"  Not  without  you.    Believe  me,  I  am  better 


196  POPULAR  TALES  OF    HUNGARY. 

acquainted  with,  these  parts  than  you  in  town. 
A  thunder-storm  is  approaching  so  terrible,  that 
woe  to  every  one  who  is  shelterless.  Do  you 
see  the  white  cloud  hovering  over  the  moun- 
tain? Let  us  hasten,  that  the  violence  of  the 
wind  may  not  overtake  us.  You  know  that  in 
the  mountains  the  storm  is  nowhere  so  danger- 
ous as  in  the  pine-forests.  Their  roots  are  not 
deep  enough  to  resist  the  hurricane ;  they  are 
swept  down  in  a  moment,  and  bury  the  wan- 
derer who  seeks  refuge  under  their  branches. 
The  path  to  our  house  leads  yonder,  quite 
straight." 

Wladin  was  aware  of  the  danger.  He  quickly 
mounted  his  horse,  caught  hold  of  the  girl  to 
raise  her  on  the  back  of  his  steed,  and  gallopped 
off  in  the  direction  indicated  by  her.  He  liked  the 
adventure,  yet  the  thought  crossed  his  mind 
that  he  never  had  heard  anything  of  the  game- 
keeper's daughter,  who  far  surpassed  in  beauty 
and  wit  any  peasant  girl  he  had  ever  met.  When 
the  rain  began  to  fall  in  thick  showers,  and  the 
storm  raved  fiercely,  the  girl  began  to  tremble 
with  cold.  He  therefore  unfolded  his  cloak, 


THE  BOOKS   OF  LIPNIK.  197 

wrapped  it  round  her,  and  told  her  to  cling  fast 
to  him  that  the  storm  might  not  blow  her  down 
from  her  insecure  seat. 

Half  blinded  by  rain,  lightning,  and  wind, 
they  arrived  at  the  gamekeeper's  house.  Wladin 
sprang  from  the  horse,  and  lifted  the  girl  to  the 
ground.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  but  no  one 
answered  the  summons. 

"  Father  is  not  yet  at  home.  To  meet  this 
I  have  a  key  in  my  pocket,"  she  said,  unlock- 
ing the  gate.  She  took  the  horse  into  the 
stable,  and  directed  Wladin  to  seek  the  room, 
where  soon  a  merry  fire  was  kindled  in  the 
chimney.  Here  the  Prince  warmed  and  dried 
himself  whilst  the  girl  went  to  and  fro,  but 
soon  approached  in  Sunday  apparel,  and  covered 
the  oak  table  with  a  clean  linen  cloth,  the  work 
of  her  hands,  as  she  told  him.  She  placed  fruit 
and  cheese,  bread  and  milk  on  the  board,  and 
adorned  it  with  a  gay  bunch  of  flowers. 

"Wladin  sat  down,  and  she  sat  at  his  side. 
The  meal  was  hardly  touched,  for  the  Prince 
listened  with  increasing  attention  to  the  words 
of  the  girl,  who  described  to  him  her  secluded 


198  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

life,  often  left  to  herself  from  morning  to  night 
whilst  her  father  went  to  the  chase.  He  was 
the  only  man  familiar  to  her ;  for  seldom  did  a 
guest  knock  at  the  door,  and  when  that 
happened,  it  was  some  outlaw  seeking  shelter 
for  a  night,  who  enforced  hospitality  with  his 
sword.  Then  she  spoke  of  the  terrors  and 
the  dreams  which  haunted  her  mind,  after  she 
had  listened  for  hours  to  tales  of  misery  and 
violence. 

"  But  you  do  not  touch  the  meal,  my  Prince," 
she  interrupted  herself.  "  I  hope  you  will  take 
a  glass  of  wine  with  me." 

She  rose  and  went  to  the  cupboard,  and  took 
out  a  flask  filled  with  darkened  wine,  and  a 
large  silver  goblet,  on  which  long-bearded  faces 
were  engraved.  She  poured  the  liquor  into  the 
goblet,  and  every  drop  appeared  to  the  Prince 
sparkling  with  fire.  She  offered  the  cup,  and 
said: 

"  Drink,  Wladin!" 

The  voice  sounded  to  him  different,  but  yet 
as  if  he  had  heard  it  once  before.  "When  he 
raised  the  goblet  in  his  hand,  it  seemed  burn- 


THE   ROCKS   OF   LIPNIK.  199 

ing;  the  bearded  faces  on  its  sides  grinned  at 
him ;  but  the  wine  pearled  so  invitingly,  that  he 
could  not  resist.  He  emptied  it  in  one  draught. 

All  around  now  took  another  shape ;  silk 
covered  the  table ;  the  earthenware  had  turned 
into  gold;  the  flowers  shone  as  jewels,  and 
exhaled  fragrance  of  frankincense.  The  room 
dilated  into  a  spacious  hall,  sumptuously  illu- 
minated by  hundreds  of  lamps ;  marble  pillars 
rose  all  around;  sweet  music  vibrated  through 
the  air. 

"Wladin  rose  astonished  from  his  seat.  Before 
him  stood  the  girl,  but  her  countenance  shone 
with  majestic  dignity.  A  purple  cloak  flowed 
from  her  shoulders.  She  presented  to  him  anew 
the  silver  goblet,  and  said,  alluringly : 

" Drink,  Wladin!" 

He  stared  at  her,  and  seized  the  goblet ;  but  it 
slipped  through^  his  trembling  fingers,  and  fell  to 
the  ground. 

Everything  was  again  as  before.  He  sat  at 
the  table  covered  with  the  linen  cloth  ;  the 
fruits  lay  on  the  earthen  dish ;  the  small  room 
was  scarcely  lighted  by  the  two  candles  on  the 


200  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

board ;  the  peasant  girl  stood  smiling  before  him, 
and  said : 

"  "Why  do  you  stare  at  me  ?  don't  you  like  my 
wine  ?  Come,  take  another  cup  with  me :  it  will 
warm  you  after  the  cold  ride.'7 

Wladin  seemed  to  awake  from  a  dream ;  it 
was  as  if  a  film  fell  from  his  eyes.  Exclaim- 
ing :  "  Get  thee  hence,  Omna  I"  he  burst  from 
the  room  and  fled.  He  had  recognised  the 
temptress. 

When  he  returned  home  he  did  not  relate  his 
adventure,  but  remembered  it  well,  and  did  not 
forget  Adla's  warning. 

Once  when  he  returned  from  a  visit  to  his 
stud,  he  heard  piercing  shrieks  from  the  forest, 
and  hastened  in  that  direction.  A  lovely  maiden, 
clad  in  the  dark  garments  of  a  burgher's 
daughter,  threw  himself  at  his  feet.  Two  horse- 
men followed  on  her  traces,  but  when  they  beheld 
"Wladin  drawing  his  sword,  ready  to  encounter 
them,  they  fled. 

The  maiden  burst  into  tears  ;  she  could 
utter  no  word — every  accent  was  choked  in 
sobs.  The  Prince  tried  to  comfort  her,  and 


THE   BOOKS  OF   LIPNIK.  201 

raised    her   from    the   ground   where  she    still 
knelt,  her  face  hid  in  her  hands. 

"  Are  they  gone,  are  they  gone  ?"  she  uttered, 
glancing  around  with  a  bewildered  look  ;  and 
when  she  saw  that  all  was  safe,  she  pressed  the 
hand  of  Wladin  to  her  heart,  and  exclaimed : 

"You  are  my  deliverer.  How  can  I  thank 
you,  what  can  I  do,  I,  the  poor  orphan! 
Shall  I  return  to  the  old  miser,  the  remorseless 
guardian,  who  sold  me  to  the  ruffian  from  whom 
I  have  escaped,  thanks  to  thee!  Could  I  but. 
serve  thee,  noblest  of  men,  as  thy  very  humblest 
attendant,  I  would  watch  thine  eye  to  obey 
thy  yet  unexpressed  desires.  I  would  never 
obtrude  on  thee,  but  ever  be  ready  at  thy  com- 
mand. I  would  follow  thee  faithfully  and 
silently  as  thine  own  shadow.  But  what 
do  I  say?  I  wish  to  prove  grateful,  and  I 
claim  a  new  boon,"  cried  she  passionately, 
folding  her  hands  and  looking  up  to  the  Prince 
with  the  glance  of  inexpressible  grief. 

Wladin  took  her  hands,  while  he  hardly  knew 
himself  what  he  did,  and  said  with  uncertain 

accents :  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 
9* 


202  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

These  words  seemed  to  revive  the  energy  of 
the  girl,  for  though  she  yet  trembled,  she  ob- 
viously composed  herself. 

"You  do  not  forsake  me,"  replied  she,  with 
confidence.  "  You  will  preserve  the  life  you 
have  saved.  Thither,"  said  she,  pointing  in  the 
direction  of  the  capital,  "  thither  I  will  not 
return ;  but  some  hours  from  hence — the  way 
leads  over  that  mountain  before  us — there  re- 
sides my  aunt,  with  whom  I  lived  until  called  to 
town  by  my  guardian.  To  this  aged  relative 
I  will  now  return,  if  you  will  take  me  to  her,  for 
alone  I  fear  to  go." 

The  Prince  bowed  his  assent. 

It  was  afternoon;  the  steep  path  led  over 
loose  stones  and  through  thickets.  Wladin 
supported  his  fair  charge,  who  leaned  on  his 
arm,  and  often  stopped,  as  if  overcome  with 
exhaustion.  Her  colour  came  and  fled,  till  at 
last  she  avowed  she  must  .rest.  She  sat  down 
on  a  stone,  over  which  "Wladin  had  spread  his 
cloak.  He  stood  beside  her  with  folded  arms. 

The  dark  pines,  the  rocks,  tne  purling  of  a 
rivulet,  awoke  in  him  strange  recollections. 


THE   ROCKS   OF   LIPNIK.  203 

And  when  he  glanced  at  the  beautiful  maiden, 
and  marked  her  blue  eyes,  shining  with  a  mys- 
terious brilliancy,  he  thought  he  had  beheld  her 
before.  But  her  clear  voice  soon  dispelled  this 
impression.  He  asked  her  who  she  was?  and 
she  related  that  her  father  had  fallen  three  years 
ago  on  the  field  of  battle,  under  the  banner  of 
the  Prince ;  her  mother  did  not  survive  him ; 
she  had  remained  with  the  old  aunt,  who,  deaf 
and  blind,  could  but  little  care  for  her. 

"  Yet  I  grew  up,"  she  sorrowfully  continued, 
"  as  you  see.  But,  alas !  why  ?  to  return  to 
the  sad  abode  where  no  eye  watches  my  cares, 
where  I  witness  a  misery  I  cannot  alleviate,  and 
where  I  tremblingly  anticipate  the  hour  when  the 
joyless  life  of  my  poor  aunt  shall  depart,  and  I 
remain  at  the  mercy  of  the  hated  miser.  Oh ! 
I  am  the  most  unfortunate  creature  in  the  world !" 
She  shuddered. 

The  young  man  turned  to  her  with  deep 
commiseration.  Her  bright  forehead  was  bent 
forward  against  her  head,  while  her  elbow  rested 
on  the  knee ;  her  dark  eyelashes  covered  a  half- 
suppressed  tear;  youth  and  misfortune  spread 


204  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 


irresistible  charms  over  her  winning  counte- 
nance. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  as  if  comforted  by  his 
glance  of  compassion,  "  let  us  continue  our  road. 
I  shall  find  my  strength  again  ;  but,  nay  generous 
deliverer,  promise  that  you  will  never  forget  me, 
but  will  shield  me  when  I  am  without  protection. 
You  never  will  forsake  me — promise*" 

She  rose,  and  Wladin  pressed  a  kiss  on  her 
hand;  but  his  lips  burnt,  fire  shot  through  his 
veins ;  he  retreated  a  step ;  he  looked  full  in 
her  face,  and  cried  "  Omna  I"  then  precipitately 
hastened  down  the  path  they  had  just  ascended. 

Accents  of  despair,  heart-rending  entreaties, 
struck  his  ear ;  but  he  did  not  return.  Scornful 
laughter,  a  thousand-fold  repeated  by  the  echo, 
seemed  to  follow  his  steps;  but  still  he  did  not 
return. 

"  Coward !  coward !"  vibrated  through  the  air. 
The  Prince  stopped,  involuntarily  put  his  hand 
to  the  hilt  of  his  sword ;  but  not  even  then 
returned. 

He  reached  the  palace,  sought  his  apartment, 
and  locked  himself  in. 


THE   EOCKS   OF   LIPNIK.  205 

It  was  night,  yet  lie  closed  not  his  eyes ;  the 
sorceress  haunted  his  imagination ;  the  burgher 
maid  and  the  peasant  girl  both  flitted  before  his 
mind.  He  paced  his  room  in  feverish  excitement 

The  morrow  came,  and  he  saw  his  Adla  again. 
She  had  been  anxious  at  his  absence,  as  she 
ever  was,  she  blushingly  said.  Her  eye  inquired 
if  Wladin  had  nothing  to  relate ;  but  he  was  pre- 
occupied by  a  thought  he  did  not  utter,  and 
Adla  would  not  heighten  his  discomfort  by  dis- 
closing her  cares.  Yet  they  sickened  her  heart ; 
the  lover  felt  it,  and  grew  more  reserved  and 
more  restless. 

Yet  he  soon  was  determined.  He  would 
voluntarily  meet  the  danger  which  had  ob- 
truded itself.  He  would  convince  the  sorceress 
by  deed,  and  by  word,  that  he  did  not  fear  her ; 
and  that  the  talisman  of  his  love  for  Adla  would 
ever  protect  him.  He  would  call  upon  her 
generosity,  not  to  embitter  his  gratitude  by  per- 
secuting him  with  temptations  which  he  would 
ever  resist,  but  which  troubled  the  life  of  his 
Adla  no  less  than  his  own. 

He  told  no  one  of  his  intention,  but  set  out. 


206  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

He  penetrated  through  the  forest ;  he  ascended 
the  hills ;  he  did  not  rest  on  the  alpine  meadows, 
he  climbed  up  the  cliffs  of  the  Carpathians ;  and 
when  he  had  left  the  borders  of  his  own  realm 
far  behind,  he  exclaimed:  "  Omna,  Queen  of 
the  Eocks,  grant  me  thy  presence ! " 

Hardly  had  these  words  escaped  his  lips,  when 
the  majestic  woman  stood  at  his  side,  just  as  she 
had  appeared  at  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  when 
she  saved  his  life. 

"  Thou  callest ;  I  am  here,"  said  she,  with  a 
radiant  smile.  "  I  gladly  greet  thee  in  my 
realm.  Art  thou  sick  of  the  earth  below — of 
human  follies,  and  human  grief?  Thou  art 
right;  breathe  with  me  the  purer  air  of  the 
heights;  they  shall  be  subject  to  thee,  as  they 
are  to  me.  Yes,  more  than  to  me ;  thou  hast 
found  favour  in  my  eyes,  and  a  woman's  favour 
makes  her  the  slave  of  him  she  adores." 

"Be  not  deceived,"  interrupted  Wladin.  "I 
cannot  remain  here ;  below  is  my  country,  and 
my  love :  with  them  rests  my  life.  I  am  come 
to  claim  thy  generosity ;  leave  me  undisturbed  in 
my  meaner  region.  Thine  is  the  world  far  above 


THE   ROCKS   OF   LIPNIK.  207 

the  land  where  I  breathe  in  peace.  The  climate 
where  thou  reignest  stuns  my  senses.  Thou  com- 
mandest  supernatural  beings ;  I  am  but  of  human 
frame,  and  cannot  live  here." 

"Is  this  thy  objection?  Know,  mine  is  the 
balm  of  eternal  youth,  and  thine  it  shall  be.  I 
touch  thy  brow,  and  no  wrinkle  shall  ever 
dim  thy  sunny  glance.  Eemain  with  me,  and 
thou  art  free  from  all  earth-born  woes.  Thine 
is  then  the  long  life  of  the  raven,  who  for 
centuries  and  centuries  survives  man,  and  his 
decay.  Thine  is  the  enjoyment  of  everlasting 
youth ;  thou  ever  renewest  thy  vigour  like  the 
serpent ;  thine  is  the  magnificence  of  the  empire 
which  I  abandon  to  thee  ;  thine  the  hidden 
treasures  of  the  caverns,  for  whose  sake  thou- 
sands of  men  bury  themselves  in  the  dark  depth 
of  the  mines  :  subject  to  thy  care  the  wells  which 
spring  forth  from  the  rocks,  and  stream  through 
the  veins  of  the  mountains,  to  carry  life  all 
over  the  earth.  Thine  are  the  flowers,  peerless 
in  brightness,  peerless  in  fragrance ;  thine  the 
herbs  unequalled  in  virtue,  whose  juice  yields 
the  balm  that  alleviates  sickness  and  suffering. 


208  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Of  all  these  canst  thou  dispose,  and  dispense  their 
riches  as  thy  princely  heart  desireth." 

"  These  treasures  I  covet  not ;  they  never 
can  be  mine,  O  mighty  Queen!  I  know  thy 
realm  is  loftier  than  mine — thy  power  is  greater  ; 
yet  a  short  life  shared  with  her  I  love  in  my 
humble  home,  is  what  I  long  for,  and  prefer  to 
centuries  of  glory." 

u  It  is  not  love  I  claim,"  Omna  continued ; 
"  I  claim  but  gratitude :  I  have  saved  thy  life ; 
I  offer  thee  eternal  youth,  and  centuries  of  un- 
dimmed  vigour.  Do  not  refuse  too  hastily  ;  a 
more  exalted  prize  never  has  been  offered.  If 
thou  art  really  grateful,  love  will  awake  in  thy 
breast.  Do  not  bind  thy  life  to  a  frail  tenure ; 
thy  manly  mind  deserves  that  its  energies  be  not 
confined  to  a  score  of  years.  Eeflect  once  more 
before  thou  declinest." 

The  Prince  said :  "I  love  Adla ;  this  is  my 
reply/' 

"  Thou  spurnest  ?  Well,  thou  shalt  know 
my  power.  Thy  request  is  granted  ;  I  never 
shall  tempt  thee  more  ;  but  we  shall  see,  if  thou 
wilt  not  seek  me.  Thou  hast  known  me  thy 


THE   ROCKS  OF   LIPNIK.  209 

friend.  If  ever  thou  meetest  me  again,  it  will  be 
as  thy  enemy :  beware  !" 

With  these  words  she  disappeared. 

Wladin  retraced  his  steps,  recapitulating  to 
himself  every  word  the  sorceress  had  said,  which 
awakened  sad  forebodings. 

Adla  was  pale,  for  she  had  been  yearning  for 
his  return  ;  yet  joy  recalled  the  blood  to  her 
cheeks,  and  she  was  lovely  as  before.  The 
beauty  of  her  features  was  even  more  striking 
than  when  she  had  bloomed  in  full  health. 
But  from  day  to  day  she  grew  paler  and  fainter, 
an  invisible  spell  seemed  to  press  upon  her,  and 
the  angel  of  death  at  last  hovered  around 
her. 

Wladin  knew  who  had  conjured  up  that 
spirit.  He  was  aware  that  human  art  would 
prove  vain,  and  he  cursed  the  hour  when  he 
was  saved  on  the  rocks  at  this  price;  but  he 
would  not  submit  to  the  fiendish  decree,  and 
he  resolved  to  defy  the  sorceress  herself.  He 
knew  that  a  drop  of  the  balm  of  youth  would 
save  his  Adla;  this,  therefore,  he  would  wrest 
from  the  Queen  of  the  Eocks. 


210  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

He  went  to  her  realm,  and  summoned  her. 
She  appeared  majestic  as  before,  but  with  a 
look  framed  to  rouse  all  the  evil  passions  in  the 
bosom  of  man. 

"  Art  thou  here  to  beg  favours  for  thy  toy  ?" 
she  exclaimed,  taking  from  her  bosom  a  small 
phial,  and  holding  it  up.  "  One  drop  of  this 
can  restore  her  health,  but  thou  shalt  not  have 
it.  Dost  thou  now  recognise  my  power,  and 
thy  feebleness  ?" 

"  Not  before  we  have  measured  our  strength," 
replied  Wladin. 

He  rushed  forward,  grasped  her  arm,  to 
catch  hold  of  the  phial,  but  in  the  same 
moment  the  sorceress  transformed  herself  into  a 
dragon.  Wladin  stepped  backwards,  drew  his 
sword,  and  said : 

"  Thank  thee,  that  thou  appearest  in  thy  real 
shape";  now  I  can  combat  thee." 

He  attacked  her  with  undaunted  courage, 
but  the  steel,  touched  by  the  glowing  breath  of 
the  monster,  melted  in  the  hand  of  the  Prince. 
He  flung  the  useless  weapon  away,  and  threw 
both  his  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  dra- 


THE   BOOKS  OF  LIPNIK.  211 

gon.  The  monster,  in  agony,  coiled  round  the 
breast  of  the  hero,  but  too  late — he  had 
strangled  it. 

He  took  up  the  balm,  and  though  seriously 
wounded,  joyfully  returned  to  Adla.  She  sat  in 
the  garden  at  the  fountain,  which  reflected  her 
marble-like  countenance.  Flushed  with  the 
instinctive  glow  of  joy,  she  met  her  lover,  who 
triumphantly  presented  her  the  phial.  But 
his  face  was  livid,  his  hands  bore  the  traces 
of  blood,  and  he  soon  sank  down  in  exhaustion. 
She  knelt  at  his  side,  she  examined  his  wounds, 
the  venomous  teeth  of  the  dragon  had  im- 
pressed them  with  death ;  and  against  this,  she 
knew  the  balm  of  youth  itself  had  no  power. 
Without  him,  life  had  no  charms  for  her ;  she 
flung  the  too-highly  bought  phial  into  the 
fountain,  and  throwing  herself  into  her 
lover's  arms,  her  heart  broke  in  the  same 
moment  when  death  darkened  the  eyes  of 
"Wladin. 

The  earthly  remains  of  the  lovers  did  not 
decay  :  they  were  transformed  into  stone.  And 
up  to  this  day,  when  the  wanderer  sees  the  two 


212  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

rocks  at  the  fountain  of  Lipnik,  winch  in  the 
distance  appear  to  be  two  human  forms  clinging 
to  each  other,  he  may  learn  from  the  sym- 
pathizing peasant,  the  marvellous  tale  of  Wladin 
and  Adla. 


JACK,  THE  HOESE-DEALER. 

OF  all  the  German  Emperors,  none  has  ever 
made  so  lasting  an  impression  on  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  German  people,  as  the  Emperor 
Frederick  Barbarossa,  the  Hohenstauf.  His  grand 
struggle  against  the  craft  of,  the  Popedom,  the 
power  with  which  he  enforced  the  German 
supremacy  over  Italy,  the  vigorous  rule  he  main- 
tained in  his  realm,  and  lastly,  his  mysterious 
death  in  the  East  ;*  all  this  made  him  the  hero 
of  German  tradition.  The  people  do  not  believe 
him  dead,  but  say  that  he  sits  in  a  magnificent 

*  He  was  drowned  while  bathing  in  the  river 
Callikadnus,  in  Cilicia,  during  his  crusade. 


214  POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

subterraneous  hall,  in  the  midst  of  the  Kyfhauser 
mountain  in  Thuringia.  On  his  head  shines 
the  Imperial  crown ;  the  purple  cloak  folds 
around  him ;  at  his  side  hangs  his  victorious 
sword ;  but  he  sleeps;,  his  weary  head,  sunk  on 
his  arm,  leans  against  a  white  marble  slab ;  the 
red  beard  of  the"  Emperor  grows  on  and  on,  and 
has  grown  through  the  marble  slab  down  to  the 
ground,  and  from  the  ground  again  up  to  the  slab. 

A  young  shepherd — so  tradition  relates — who 
had  lost  one  of  his  sheep,  once  crept  about  the 
caverns  of  the  Kyfhauser,  lost  his  path,  and 
suddenly  found  himself  in  the  hall  of  Barbarossa. 
The  Emperor  awoke  and  inquired  :  "  Do  the 
black  ravens  still  fly  around  the  mountain  ?"  The 
lad  answered:  "Yes;"  and  the  Emperor  said: 
"  Then  my  time  has  not  yet  ctome  " — and  again 
began  to  snore. 

The  youth  was  frightened,  and  hastened  away. 
He  got  to  daylight  only  on  the  third  day.  A 
stone,  which  he  had  taken  from  the  Imperial 
hall,  served  as  a  proof  of  the  truth  of  his  ac 
count,  for  the  fragment  was  ascertained  to  be 
pure  gold. 


JACK,   THE   HORSE-DEALER.  215 

Since  then  many  people  have  attempted  to 
get  into  the  Kyf  hauser,  but  in  vain.  Not  until  a 
German  peasant  shall  hoist  the  German  stan- 
dard, and  hang  his  shield  on  a  dry  tree, 
three  times  felled,  and  three  times  grown  up 
again  from  the  root — not  until  this  tree  shall 
sprout,  will  Frederick  Barbarossa  awake,  and 
restore  the  great  German  Empire  in  its  full 
power  and  glory. 

The  tale  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  in  the 
Kyf  hauser  is  not  unique.  We  find  such  tradi- 
tions in  the  south  no  less  than  in  the  north  of 
Europe. 

Similarly  to  Barbarossa,  spell-bound  in  the 
mountain  cavern,  Marko  Kraljevits  too,  the 
king's  son,  sleeps  in  the  Serbian  mountains. 

When  once  the  ..sword,  which  the  Prince  has 
thrown  into  the  Adriatic,  shall  be  carried  to 
shore  by  the  waves,  and  come  into  the  hands  of 
a  hero,  then  Marko  will  step  forth  from  the 
mountain,  to  erect  in  the  south  the  great  Scla- 
vonic realm. 

In  the  Grampian  mountains  of  the  Scotch 
Highlands,  Tom  the  Ehymer  likewise  assembles 


216  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

his  knights,  and  waits  for  the  right  man,  whom 
the  British  isles  shall  obey. 

When,  two  years  ago,  Archduke  John  of 
Austria  was  called  from  his  Styrian  farm,  where 
he  lived  as  a  peasant,  to  Frankfort,  to  be  there 
the  Administrator  of  the  Empire,  many  thought 
that  the  spell  was  broken,  which  banishes  the 
old  Barbarossa  to  the  Kyfhauser.  The  German 
Emperor,  with  the  victorious  sword  on  his  side, 
was  generally  expected,  and  the  tables  were 
already  dressed  at  Frankfort  for  the  banquet  of 
the  coronation.  But  it  soon  became  obvious 
that  the  Administrator  was,  in  fact,  an  Archduke, 
not  a  real  peasant ;  and  the  ravens,  which  had 
assembled  from  every  part  of  Germany,  all 
croaked  together  so  hoarsely,  that  the  Emperor 
Frederick,  already  risen  from  his  marble  seat, 
suddenly  relapsed  into  an  iron  sleep. 

In  the  south,  too,  it  was  reported  that  the 
Ottochans  had  found  an  ancient  sword  at  the 
coast,  and  had  brought  it  to  the  Ban  Jellachich. 

The  whole  Sclavonic  south  fell  into  commo- 
tion, and  in  the  mountains  Marko  himself,  the 
powerful  son  of  the  King,  was  said  to  have  been 


JACK,    THE   HORSE-DEALER.  217 

seen.  But  every  one  soon  became  aware,  that 
the  Ban  Jellachich,  who  had  girded  himself  with 
Marko's  sword,  was  no  hero,  but  a  simple  cour- 
tier ;  and  the  movement  subsided.  Marko  sleeps 
undisturbed  as  before. 

Tom  the  Rhymer  too,  who,  during  the  last 
century  had  repeatedly  risen,  now,  since  the 
battle  of  Culloden  Moor,  but  seldom  gives  a  sign 
of  life. 

On  a  sultry  evening  in  the  summer  of  1848, 
Jack  the  horse-dealer  returned  from  the  market 
of  Fort  William.  He  had  sold  all  but  one  of 
his  horses,  a  black  steed,  which  he  now  rode, 
after  having  emptied  with  his  customers  many  a 
glass  of  whisky  on  the  conclusion  of  a  good 
bargain. 

It  was  dark  before  he  had  passed  the  Ben 
Nevis ;  nevertheless,  as  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  road,  he  pursued  it  without  fear. 

But  when  an  uncertain  moonlight  for  a  mo- 
ment pierced  the  clouds,  he  thought  he  perceived 
that  he  had  mistaken  his  way.  The  path  unex- 
pectedly went  up  a  very  steep  hill,  and  led  to 

the  side  of  rocks,  quite  unknown  to  him.     No 
10 


218  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

doubt  Jack  strongly  had  partaken  of  the  Scotch 
whisky  at  the  market,  but  now  he  at  once  got 
sober. 

To  his  great  satisfaction  he  caught  sight  of 
a  human  shape  preceding  him  at  hardly  fifty 
paces.  At  first  he  conceived  it  to  be  a  Highland 
shepherd,  and  therefore  briskly  rode  up  to  meet 
the  man,  and  was  just  going  to  request  him  to 
show  the  way,  when,  approaching  more  closely, 
he  discerned  that  he  was  no  shepherd.  The 
stranger  had  a  long  silver  beard,  and  wore  black 
garments  cut  in  the  Highland  fashion ;  he  met 
the  looks  of  our  horse-dealer  with  so  dignified  a 
glance  that  Jack  could  hardly  find  courage 
enough  to  accost  him.  But  the  old  man  relieved 
his  embarrassment  by  inquiring  whether  he 
would  sell  the  black  horse  he  rode  ;  price  was  no 
object,  provided  he  would  engage  that  the  horse 
had  not  a  single  white  hair  on  his  whole  body. 

Jack  assured  the  old  Highlander  that  the  steed 
was  black  and  unstained,  and  the  bargain  was 
immediately  concluded.  The  old  man,  without 
further  negotiation,  paid  the  price  demanded, 
mounted  the  horse,  and  pointed  out  to  Jack  a 


JACK,    THE   HORSE-DEALEK.  219 

footpath,  by  which,  he  could  leave  the  moun- 
tains, and  get  to  the  canal.  But  the  horse- 
dealer  was  not  the  man  to  avoid  an  adventure 
so  favourably  begun ;  he  stopped  the  stranger 
and  said : 

"It  is  not  .my  custom  to  conclude  a  dry 
bargain  ;  thou  hast  bought  the  black  horse,  now 
come  to  the  first  public-house ;  let  us  drink 
a  draught  of  whisky  together." 

"I  never  go  to  a  public-house,"  objected  the 
old  man ;  "  but  if  thou  hast  courage,  accompany 
me  to  my  abode ;  there  I  offer  you  the  most 
excellent  wine.  But  if  thou  believest  that  thy 
courage  might  sink,  then  rather  return  this  mo- 
ment, for  if  thou  shrink 'st  after  having  overstep- 
ped my  threshold,  thou  art  a  child  of  death." 

Jack  had  always  been  a  stout  boxer,  and  his 
courage  was  not  lessened  by  the  whisky  he  had 
tasted  in  Fort  William.  He  therefore  fearlessly 
followed  his  mysterious  guide,  though  he  could 
no  longer  doubt  that  this  was  Tom  the 
Khymer,  the  great  poet  king,  whose  name  he 
had  heard  mentioned  so  often  by  his  nurse. 

As    Tom  was    riding  along  the  side  of  the 


220  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

steep  declivity,  lie  touched  the  rocks  with  his 
stick ;  they  opened,  and  a  narrow  subterraneous 
path  became  visible.  The  Ehymer  King  well 
noticed  that  the  pulse  of  his  companion  beat 
audibly,  and  therefore  once  more  admonished 
him  to  return  if  he  thought  that  his  heart 
might  fail ;  but  Jack  was  now  ashamed  to  • 
withdraw,  and  boldly  followed  his  guide  into 
the  cavern.  A  faint  light,  resembling  the 
flash  of  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  danced  before  them 
on  the  soil  of  the  cavern ;  upon  which  the  hoofs 
of  the  black  horse  sounded  hollow.  Eound  the 
walls  hung  black  caparisons,  armour,  and 
broad  claymores,  all  carefully  polished,  yet  still 
bearing  traces  of  ancient  spots  of  blood.  In  the 
distance  flamed  a  large  chimney  fire,  illumi- 
nating a  spacious  hall.  In  the  hall  stood  nearly 
a  thousand  horses,  all  perfectly  black,  with 
black  caparisons,  and  at  the  side  of  every 
steed,  stood  a  knight  in  black  armour,  girded 
with  a  sword.  None  of  the  knights  moved — 
all  were  spell-bound  in  sleep. 

Jack  could  not  refrain  from  reviewing   the 
steeds  with  a  jockey's  eye,  to  praise  the  one  and 


JACK,   THE   HORSE-DEALER.  221 

to  find  fault  with  most.  The  old  king  gladly 
saw  that  his  g.uest  was  not  devoid  of  courage. 
His  eyes  sparkled,  he  filled  his  goblet  with  the 
best  wine,  and  offered  it  to  Jack,  who  emptied 
it  at  once.  Tom  the  Ehymer  now  seized  his 
hand,  and  led  him  to  a  board,  on  which  lay  a 
hunting-horn  and  a  sword  in  its  sheath. 

"  Thy  fate  and  that  of  thy  country  now  rest 
with  thee,"  said  Tom  to  him.  "  Choose  one  of 
two  things :  either  blow  into  the  horn,  or  draw 
the  sword  from  its  sheath ;  do  as  thy  heart 
wishes,  as  thy  understanding  advises,  but  know, 
that  thou  decidest  between  power  and  death. 
If  thou  choose  well,  thou  art  sovereign  of  the 
islands  ;  if  thou  err,  death  is  thy  lot." 

Jack  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  blew 
vigorously  into  the  horn.  The  walls  of  the 
hall  trembled,  the  knights  awoke,  sprang  on 
their  horses,  and  swung  their  swords  around. 
But  Tom  the  Ehymer,  with  a  strong  hand, 
seized  poor  Jack,  and  thundered  in  his  ears : 

"  Fool !  how  dared  thou  blow  into  the  horn, 
and  awake  the  hidden  powers  of  the  night,  with- 
out first  having  armed  thyself  with  the  sword  ?" 


222  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Jack  lost  his  senses.  On  the  subsequent 
morning,  lie  was  found  lying  beside  his  grazing 
horse,  at  the  border  of  the  Loch  Lochy,  wildly 
talking  of  Tom  the  Ehymer,  and  his  black 
steeds.  The  friends  of  the  horse-dealer  thought 
his  tale  fully  explained  by  the  whisky  he  had. 
drunk  in  Fort  William ;  but  a  German  pro- 
fessor, who  at  that  time  happened  to  travel  in 
the  Highlands,  and  heard  the  story  to]d  by  Jack 
himself,  was  thoroughly  convinced  that  Tom  the 
Ehymer  had  intended  to  give  a  lesson  to  the 
Germans;  and  that  he  meant  for  them  what  he 
had  said  to  Jack :  "  Fools,  how  dared  you  to 
blow  into  the  horn  before  you  have  unsheathed 
the  sword?' 


KLING-SOHR  OF  HUNGARY. 

IN  the  middle  ages,  when  the  illustrious  art 
of  song  was  not,  as  nowadays,  only  the  faint 
reproduction  of  the  ideas  of  inventive  genius, 
when  it  was  not  a  pastime  applauded  by  the 
idle,  and  the  curious,  but  the  full  expression  ofi 
the  feelings  and  thoughts  of  poet-minstrels, 
amongst  whom  Kings  were  proud  to  be  ranged, 
the  Landgrave  Herrmann  of  Thuringia  invited 
all  the  celebrated  minstrels  to  his  Court,  where 
they  were  themselves  to  appoint  the  prize  by 
which  the  most  accomplished  song  was  to  be 
rewarded. 

Henry  of  Veldeck,  "Walther  of  the  Vogel- 
weide,  Wolfram  of  Eshenbach,  Bitterolf,  Rein- 
hard  of  Zwetzen,  Henry  of  Ofterdingen,  and 


224  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

many  more  of  less  glorious  memory,  all  obeyed 
the  summons.  Each  proposed  a  different  prize. 
One  thought  a  golden  crown  would  best  reward 
the  triumphant  poet ;  another  objected,  that  no 
crown  could  equal  in  glory  the  stamp  of  genius, 
by  which  nature's  own  hand  marks  the  brow  of 
the  great  minstrel.  Eiches  and  honours  in 
every  form  were  tested,  but  found  insufficient ; 
all  acknowledged  that  success  itself  was  the 
exalted  prize  for  which  alone  the  poet's  heart 
could  yearn ;  and  at  the  same  time  they  felt, 
that  to  be  vanquished  was  a  misery  so  profound 
to  every  lofty  mind,  that  it  would  be  well  es- 
caped by  the  forfeiture  of  life.  Therefore  the 
triumphant  minstrel  should  simply  get  a  wreath 
•  of  bays  to  crown  him  "  king  of  poetry,77  and  all 
the  minstrels  should  bow  in  homage  to  him,  as 
vassals  to  their  liege.  But  only  the  worthiest 
could  enter  the  list  for  such  prize;  mediocrity 
could  not  contend ;  whoso  claimed  the  crown, 
must  be  ready  to  sacrifice  his  life,  if  he  failed. 
A  kingdom  to  the  successful  ;  death  to  the 
vanquished  I  Thus  it  was  unanimously  agreed 
upon. 


KLINGSOHR   OF  HUNGARY.  225 

In  the  year  1207,  tlie  minstrels  all  appeared 
on  the  appointed  day,  in  the  great  hall  of 
Wartburg,  to  compete  in  song,  and  thus  to  war 
for  the  crown.  The  whole  Court  was  assembled 
in  festive  magnificence.  The  Landgrave  Herr- 
mann presided ;  many  renowned  knights  had 
come  to  witness  the  issue  of  the  day.  The 
fairest  dames  sat  around,  above  whom  the 
Landgravine  Sophia  shone  in  beauty,  and  in 
loveliness.  The  doors  of  the  spacious  hall  were 
all  thrown  open,  that  the  people  might  view 
the  triumph  of  the  victor.  But  none  offered  to 
undergo  the  dangerous  combat,  except  Wolfram 
of  Eshenbach,  and  Henry  of  Ofterdingen  ;  they 
stepped  forward,  and  were  greeted  by  loud 
applause,  and  many  a  secret  sigh. 

Henry  of  Ofterdingen  begins.  His  voice 
leads  to  the  paradise  of  love,  where  root  the 
blessings  of  the  heart,  where  bloom  the  flowers 
of  eternal  spring,  where  shines  the  morning  sun 
of  sympathy.  The  harp  re-echoes  the  melodious 
strains,  and  melts  the  glowing  feeling  of  passionate 
affection  into  tears  and  longing. 

"  His  is  the  prize  I"    then   exclaimed  thou- 
10* 


226  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

-sands  of  softly  vibrating  voices,  and  a  thousand 
smiles  thanked  the  youthful  poet.  His  golden 
curls  cover  his  snowy  brow  as  he  bows  in 
gratitude. 

Wolfram  of  Eshenbach  now  takes  the  place. 
His  harp  sounds  in  proud  harmonies,  his  words 
describe  the  glorious  deeds  of  heroes,  who 
struggle  for  the  truths  of  Christendom,  and  fall 
in  holy  battle.  Faith-imbibing  power  streams 
from  his  lips,  and  spreads  enthusiasm  around. 

"  "Wolfram  is  the  conqueror!"  is  the  verdict  pro- 
nounced by  Landgrave  Herrmann,  and  approved 
by  the  arbiters.  Landgravine  Sophia  trembles, 
the  wreath  of  laurels  she  holds  falls  to  the  floor. 
In  the  background  appears  the  executioner,  the 
polished  sword  in  his  raised  hand.  Deadly 
silence  ensues.  No  one  will  be  the  first  to  press 
the  execution  of  the  sentence.  The  dark  eye  of 
Wolfram  himself  is  anxiously  bent  on  his  rival ; 
but  Henry  of  Ofterdingen  approaches  the 
Princess,  kneels  at  her  feet,  takes  up  the  green 
wreath,  and  returning  it  to  her,  says : 

"  I  am  judged  to  have  forfeited  this  prize. 
I  do  not  care  for  an  inglorious  life,  but  I  can- 


KLINGSOHR   OF   HUNGARY.  227 

not  die  without  protesting  what  I  feel  to  be 
true ;  that  though  "Wolfram  of  Eshenbach  ex- 
cels in  the  powerful  expression  of  undaunted 
faith  and  illustrious  deeds,  yet  he  is  not  the 
king  of  poetry.  His  is  the  bloody  field  of 
battle,  the  world  of  generous  martyrdom ;  mine 
are  the  lays  of  love,  streaming  from  my  heart 
as  freely  as  the  crystal  resources  from  the  mother 
earth.  Whose  is  the  prize?  Is  it  due  to  the 
eagle,  who  moves  the  breeze  by  the  power  of 
his  wings,  or  to  the  swan,  who  re-echoes  the 
gentle  murmur  of  the  waves?  There  is  one 
who  unites  the  charm  of  melody  with  command- 
ing harmony,  but  he  resides  in  distant  lands.  To 
him  alone  I  bow,  in  full  consciousness  of  his 
superiority,  proud  to  be  a  vassal  in  his  realm — 
not  to  Wolfram." 

Sophia  had  thrown  the  ermine  border  of  her 
purple  cloak  around  the  shoulders  of  the  kneeling 
minstrel  to  protect  his  life ;  but  Henry  of  Ofter- 
dingen  now  rose  to  meet  his  fate,  when  Wolfram 
of  Eshenbach  exclaimed : 

"  Stop !  a  contested  crown  is  worthless ;  my 
sovereignty  must  be  acknowledged  by  the  rival 


228  POPULAR   TALES   OF  'HUNGARY. 

himself  whom  I  have  defeated,  or  it  bears  the 
stamp  of  usurpation.  Let  him  fetch  the  poet 
whom  he  deems  worthy  to  wear  the  laurel;  till 
then  the  crown  may  rest  in  abeyance.  Let  it  be 
proved  whether  the  stranger  deserves  the  exalted 
praises,  or  whether  it  is  the  fear  of  death  that 
inspired  Henry  with  panegyrics." 

"  I  say  but  what  I  can  prove,"  interrupted 
Ofterdingen  with  passionate  accents ;  "  he 
is  the  king  of  song,  who  dwells  afar  on  the 
wide  plain — Klingsohr  of  Hungary,  the  minstrel 
of  all  minstrels.  If  you  grant  me  one  year  from 
this  day,  I  will  seek  him  over  hill  and  dale.  I 
will  wander  through  the  woods  and  over  the 
heath,  and  will  never  rest  till  I  lead  him  hither 
< — him  who  surpasses  us  in  power  and  tender- 
ness, and  who  is  alone  worthy  to  fill  the  world 
with  his  renown ;  and  if  this  is  not  recognised 
unanimously,  then  I  shall  gladly  die,  justly  con- 
demned for  a  vain  boast." 

"  Thus  be  it,"  replied  the  Landgrave;  "but 
know  that,  if  thou  dost  not  appear  on  the 
appointed  day,  the  strings  of  thy  harp  shall  be 
rent  by  the  executioner,  and  thy  shield  shall 


KLINGSOHE   OF   HUNGARY.  229 

be  broken  by  the  hangman.  In  the  meantime 
Wolfram  may  take  the  crown,  and  wear  it  till  a 
worthier  comes,  whom  we  can  recognise  his 
liege.'7 

Henry  bowed  with  a  bitter  smile,  .glanced 
gratefully  at  the  Princess,  who  stretched  out  her 
hand,  as  if  to  say,  "  Heaven  protect  thy  path!r 
and  left  the  hall. 

The  way  was  long,  but  the  minstrel  hastened 
over  land  and  stream,  to  view  the  country,  blessed 
by  the  richest  gifts  of  nature — the  country 
where  the  soil  returns  a  hundredfold  what  it 
receives — the  country  which  profusely  yields 
iron  to  till  and  protect  its  fertile  ground,  and 
silver  and  gold  which  rule  the  world — the 
country  which  hides  in  its  depth  the  opals — 
sparkling  dew-drops  of  Heaven,  cherished  in 
the  cool  caverns  of  earth,  condensing  and  beau- 
tifying the  light  which  they  reject — the  country 
of  a  noble  race,  proud  to  be  the  freest  and  the 
most  loyal  all  over  the  world,  honouring  woman, 
not  as  the  idol  of  passion,  but  as  the  mother  of  the 
brave,  and  sharer  of  his  toils  and  of  his  glory. 

But  all  this  Henry  of  Ofterdingen  little  heeded. 


230  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

His  thoughts  were  bent  upon  his  purpose,  to 
find  the  greatest  minstrel  of  the  age,  that  his 
voice  might  resound  all  over  Germany. 

Steep  were  the  paths,  and  rapid  was  the 
stream.  The  youth  climbs  over  the  rocky 
mountains,  and  sails  along  the  rapids,  but  still 
is  far  from  him  he  seeks.  Everywhere  he  hears 
songs,  and  cannot  doubt  their  author.  He  goes 
down  into  the  depth  of  the  mountains,  and 
inquires  from  the  miner : 

"  Whose  is  the  song  thou  singest?  is  it  not 
Klingsohr's  ?" 

The  miner  replied:  "I  learned  it  from  the 
subterraneous  waters,  dropping  slowly  down 
from  the  rocky  walls  in  melodious  cadence, 
and  purling  in  unfathomed  depth;  but  of 
Klingsohr  I  never  heard." 

Henry  mounted  to.  the  hills,  where  the  ever 
beaming  sun  ripens  the  grapes,  and  imparts  its 
glow  to  the  sparkling  wine.  He  hears  the  glee 
of  the  vintager,  and  inquires  : 

"  Whose  is  the  song  thou  singest;  is  it  not 
Klingsohr's?" 

"  I  do  not  know  such  a  name.     The  swallow 


KLINGSOHK   OF   HUNGARY.  231 

and  the  stork  bring  the  songs,  when  they  come 
in  spring.     I  repeat  what  they  teach." 

Henry  wandered  where  the  darkness  of  virgin 
forests  filled  the  heart  with  awe.  He  listened 
to  the  melancholy  whistle  of  the  robber,  to  the 
distant  doleful  sound  of  the  hunter's-horn ;  he 
asked  whose  tunes  they  repeated?  and  robber 
and  huntsman  replied :  "  We  do  but  repeat 
the  rustling  of  the  leaves  when  they  fall  in 
autumn." 

Henry  descended  to  the  unbounded  plain; 
he  heard  the  lays,  here  of  the  shepherd  at  his 
fire,  there  of  the  reaper  on  the  wheat-field. 

""Whose  are  these  melodies?  are  they  not 
Klingsohr's?"  he  inquired. 

"  The  wind  brings  them  along  the  plain  ; 
the  murmuring  waters,  the  warbling  birds,  the 
rustling  leaves  know  them  ;  why  should  not  we 
learn  them  also  ?  but  the  man  you  mentioned, 
we  do  not  know  him." 

Henry  proceeded  farther,  restless  and  sleep- 
less. Months  had  passed  since  he  had  set  out ; 
he  was  met  everywhere  by  the  echoes  of  the 
minstrel,  but  him  he  had  not  found ;  and  if  he 


232  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGABY. 

could  not  soon  trace  liim  out,  death,  and  sliame 
awaited  the  German  poet. 

The  sun  had  set,  the  shadows  of  the  evening 
lengthened,  when  over  the  green  plains  he  ar- 
rived at  the  banks  of  the  yellow  Theiss,  where 
nothing  fettered  his  view  but  the  deep  blue 
canopy  of  heaven.  His  ear  was  struck  by 
melodious  strains;  he  listened  breathless,  and 
heard: 

"  Plain  of  Hungary  !  Thy  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion withers  where  it  stands ;  thy  rivers  flow  in 
silence  among  their  reed-covered  banks.  Thine 
is  not  the  grandeur  of  mountain  scenery,  not 
the  soft  beauty  of  the  valley,  not  the  majestic 
shade  of  the  forest.  It  is  not  one  single  beauty 
which  reminds  us  of  thee:  but  who  will  ever 
forget  the  awe  he  felt,  when  the  rising  sun 
poured  his  golden  light  on  thee ;  or  when,  in 
the  hours  of  noon,  the  Fairy  Morgana  covered 
the  shadeless  expanse  with  flowery  lakes,  like  the 
scorched  land's  dream  of  the  sea ;  or  at  night, 
when  all  was  so  still  that  the  breeze  of  the 
evening  came  to  the  wanderer's  ears,  sighing 
amidst  the  grass.  Boundless  plain  of  my 


KLINGSOHR   OF   HUNGARY.  233 

country,  thou  art  more  grand  than  the  moun- 
tains of  this  earth.  A  peer  art  thou  of  the 
boundless  ocean,  imparting  a  freer  pulsation  to 
the  heart,  extending  onward,  and  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach ! 

"  Vast  plain,  thou  art  the  image  of  my  people. 
Hopeful,  but  solitary  ;  thou  art  made  to  bless 
generations  by  the  profuseness  of  thy  wealth. 
Thy  energies  are  still  slumbering ;  and  the  cen- 
turies which  have  passed  over  thee  have  departed 
without  seeing  the  day  of  thy  gladness!  But 
thy  genius,  though  hidden,  is  mighty  within 
thee !  and  there  is  a  boding  voice  in  my  heart, 
which  tells  me  that  the  great  time  is  at  hand. 
Plain  of  my  country,  mayst  thou  flourish  I  and 
may  the  people  flourish  which  inhabit  thee ! 
Happy  he  who  sees  the  day  of  thy  glory ;  and 
happy  those  whose  present  affliction  is  lightened 
by  the  conviction  that  they  are  devoting  their 
energies  to  prepare  the  way  for  that  better  time, 
which  is  sure  to  come  I"* 

*  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  mention,  that  the  song  of 
Klingsohr  is  borrowed  from  Baron  Joseph  Eotvos,  who  with 
these  words  winds  up  his  Village  Notary. 


234  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

The  singer  rose.  The  expression  of  his 
proud  forehead  was  softened  by  the  smile  of  his 
lip,  and  the  brilliant  glow  of  his  dark-blue  eyes 
brightened  the  paleness  of  his  noble  coun- 
tenance, enframed  by  a  dark  beard.  Wrapt  in 
the  white  cloak  of  the  peasant,  he  graciously 
greeted  the  German  minstrel,  who  addressed 
him  with  the  words':  "  Thou  art  Klingsohr  of 
Hungary." 

"  And  if  I  am  Klingsohr  of  Hungary,  what 
more  ?" 

"  Thou  sing'st  here  in  the  lonely  wilderness, 
unheard,  and  unadmired.  Even  the  people  who 
repeat  thy  songs,  do  not  know  thy  name.  But 
in  Germany  honour  awaits  the  minstrels ;  they 
are  at  the  table  of  Kings  and  Princes.  Hast  thou 
not  heard  of  the  war  of  the  Wartburg  ?" 

"  My  country  lives  in  peace,  what  do  I  care 
for  foreign  feuds?" 

"  It  is  not  a  struggle  between  kings,  but  a 
glorious  combat  of  song.  Herrmann  of  Thu- 
ringia  has  summoned  all  the  poets  to  contend  in 
his  presence  for  the  crown  of  song,  he  bestows 
it  on  the  worthiest,  and  recognizes  him  as  his 


KLINGSOHR   OF  HUNGARY.  235 

peer,  and  all  minstrels  must  bow  to  him  in 
homage  as  vassals  to  their  liege.  And  dost  thou 
remain  here  in  the  desert,  whilst  mediocrity 
usurps  what  thou  alone  can'st  claim?" 

Klingsohr  smiled. 

"  0  Germans,  do  you  think  that  the  crown 
of  poetry  can  be  bestowed  by  princes,  that  it 
needs  a  crown  of  bays  from  the  hand  of  a 
princess  to  be  the  peer  of  kings?  Does  the 
nightingale  require  the  crown  of  song  from  the 
hands  of  Landgrave  Herrmann?  The  people 
alone  give  the  crown.  Whosesoever  songs 
they  singj  he  sways  over  their  hearts.  And 
they  do  not  give  it  to  him  who  seeks  it ;  they 
give  it  to  him  who  sings  undesigningly  as  the 
nightingale,  not  for  a  crown,  not  even  for  the 
thanks  of  love,  but  because  the  spirit  urges 
him ;  to  him  who  sings  for  the  flowers  and  the 
birds,  for  the  waves  and  the  winds,  not  caring 
whether  man  hears  him.  The  sincere  expres- 
sion of  feeling  is  never  lost,  nature  conveys  it  to 
the  hearts  of  men." 

"Klingsohr.  thou  art  greater  than  I  could 
conceive.  I  now  perceive  that  not  only  the 


236  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

meanest  but  the  greatest  too,  can  spurn  fame. 
Thou  refusest  the  prize  which  others  covet; 
thou  art  right :  honour  cannot  be  conferred  on 
thee.  But  what  thou  wilt  not  do  for  glory's 
sake,  that  do  for  my  sake,  whom  death  and 
shame  await,  if  I  cannot  prove  that  there  lives 
one  greater  than  Wolfram  of  Eshenbach,  who 
was  judged  superior  to  me  when  we  waged  war 
for  the  crown  on  the  Wartburg.  I  am  Henry 
of  Ofterdingen." 

"  Do  you  then  kill  the  finch  in  Thuringia 
because  his  strains  are  different  from  those  of 
the  lark?  Do  you  thus  admire  song?  Well, 
I  will  go  with  thee,  thou  shalt  not  die,  though 
I  am  not  willing  to  deprive  thy  rival  of  his 
princely  toy.  Princes  reward  the  courtier,  not 
the  poet." 

They  started.  The  anniversary  of  the  Wart- 
burg  war  is  come.  In  the  hall  of  the  Landgrave 
all  the  minstrels  are  assembled  anew,  at  their 
head  Wolfram,  with  the  garland  of  bays. 
Prince  Herrmann  and  Sophia,  his  consort,  sat 
on  the  throne,  surrounded  by  cavaliers  and 
dames  awaiting  the  events  of  the  day.  To 


KLINGSOHK   OF   HUNGAKY.  237 

beguile  the  hours  of  expectation,  the  minstrels 
had  sung  many  a  lay,  but  Henry  and  the 
mysterious  stranger  did  not  arrive ;  it  struck 
noon,  and  the  brow  of  the  Landgrave  darkened  ; 
he  made  a  sign  with  his  hand,  and  the  red 
cloak  of  the  executioner  appeared  in  the  court 
below,  where  the  harp  and  the  shield  of  the 
absent  minstrel  lay  on  the  ground,  and  a 
numberless  multitude  thronged  to  witness  the 
spectacle  of  the  pompous  degradation  of  their 
favourite. 

The  Princess's  cheeks  were  pale,  her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  a  distant  cloud  of  dust :  "  They  come !" 
she  exclaimed.  The  Landgrave  stepped  to  the 
balcony ;  two  horses  were  visible,  approaching 
the  castle  at  full  speed :  it  was  Henry  and  Kling- 
sohr.  Cheers  received  them.  They  entered  the 
hall.  Klingsohr  bowed  with  courteous  dignity 
to  the  Princess  Sophia,  and  cordially  offered  his 
hand  to  Wolfram,  whom  he  recognized  by  the 
wreath  of  bays.  He  then  approached  the  harp 
and  sung : 

"  A  seer,  I  address  thee,  Prince  of  Thuringia  ; 
the  veil  of  the  future  is  lifted  before  the  eyes  of 


238  POPULAK  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

the  poet.  I  sing  to  thee  of  days  to  come, 
more  radiant  in  their  reality  than  the  dreams  of 
imagination. 

"  Happiness  attends  thy  son.  In  this  very 
hour  to  King  Andrew  of  Hungary  a  daughter  is 
born,  who  is  to  be  the  wife  of  Prince  Louis — 
posterity  will  call  her  St.  Elizabeth.  My  mighty 
King  will  send  her  to  thee  in  a  silver  cradle,  with 
heaps  of  riches,  but  none  will  equal  the  treasures 
of  her  heart.  She  will  live  an  angel  on  earth ;  and 
when  her  earthly  course  is  closed,  the  nightingale 
will  sing  a  requiem  at  her  bier,  and  ever-blooming 
roses  shall  unfold  their  chalices  on  her  grave. 

"  But  her  descendants  will  not  extend  their 
sway  in  the  land  of  their  fathers.  Thuringia 
shall  be  divided  between  them.  Yet  glory  will 
never  cease  to  surround  them. 

"  There  will  come  a  time  when  war  will  rage 
all  over  the  world,  when  the  hosts  of  the  west 
and  the  south,  and  those  of  the  north  and  the 
east,  will  meet  in  battle  array  on  the  field  of 
Germany,  and  the  song  of  poetry  shall  be  drowned 
in  the  clashing  of  arms.  Then  thy  house  shall 
be  the  peaceful  abode  where  the  poets,  and  men 


KLINGSOHK   OF   HUNGARY.  239 

of  thought,  shall  find  shelter  and  hospitality.  On 
this  oasis  they  will  plant  the  palm  whose  fra- 
grance will  impart  peace  to  the  mind ;  they  will 
sow  the  seed  of  ever-blooming  beauty,  ennobling 
the  German  soil,  and  its  plants  shall  be  carried 
all  over  the  earth.  United  in  friendship  to  their 
illustrious  Prince,  their  ashes  shall  rest  with  his, 
and  thy  land  shall  become  the  holy  ground, 
where  all  will  go  on  pilgrimage  whose  thoughts 
are  not  absorbed  by  worldly  gain,  but  whose  life 
is  devoted  to  the  worship  of  genius. 

"And  another  branch  of  thy  stem  will  be 
adorned  with  the  crown  of  love. 

"  Where  the  Tagus  rolls  the  golden  sand  into 
the  ocean, — and  on  the  blessed  islands  of  the 
west, — thy  sons  shall  reign  over  the  heart  of  the 
Queen,  whose  sway  will  extend  over  the  lands 
and  the  waves.  And  the  nations  they  shall 
govern  will  be  the  strongholds  of  liberty,  and 
their  energy  will  trace  the  way  to  an  unknown 
world  yet  covered  with  darkness,  and  will  carry 
the  light  of  religion  and  civilization  back  to  the 
Bast,  from  whence  it  issued." 

And  Klingsohr  continued  to  sing  of  the  won- 


240  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

ders  of  the  East,  and  as  his  powerful  strains 
unfolded  the  whole  brilliancy  of  Eastern  imagi- 
nation— those  dazzling  tales  of  Arabia,  whose 
sunny  spell  charms  the  senses  as  a  dream  of 
everlasting  youth — Wolfram  took  the  bays  from 
his  own  head  and  affixed  it  to  the  minstrel  of 
Hungary.  He  felt  that  he  was  vanquished,  and 
cordially  proffered  his  hand  to  Henry  of  Ofter- 
dingen.  Both  did  homage  to  their  great  master ; 
and  the  Landgrave  stepped  from  the  throne, 
shook  hands  with  the  stranger,  and  said : 

"Kemain  here  between  us,  thy  admirers  and 
thy  friends— wear  the  crown  of  bays,  and  reign 
in  the  realm  of  poetry,  that  thy  lays  may  gladden 
our  hearts,  and  thy  name  may  be  praised  through- 
out the  world." 

But  Klingsohr  replied:  "My  world  is  my 
country,  and  the  delight  of  my  people  the  only 
prize  of  my  song.  In  the  realm  of  poetry  there 
is  no  king ;  the  bay  sprouts  new  leaves  every 
spring :  they  suffice  to  twine  a  garland  for  every 
one  of  us." 

He  laid  down  the  wreath  at  the  feet  of  the 
Princess,  and  retired.  He  vaulted  on  his 


KLINGSOHR   OF  HUNGARY.  241 

steed  and  was  gone.  Germany  had  heard  him 
once  and  never  more ;  like  a  flaming  comet  he 
appeared,  but  to  vanish  for  ever.  He  returned 
to  the  unbounded  plain  of  his  country,  and  to 
the  green  banks  of  the  Theiss;  his  songs  died 
away  with  the  winds ;  but  their  spirit  yet  lives 
in  the  glees  of  the  people,  in  the  songs  of  the 
Hungarian  heath,  of  the  Kisfaludys  and  Kolcseys, 
the  Tompas  and  Grarays,  the  Vorosmartys  and 
Petofys.  It  is  the  spell  of  Klingsohr's  harp  that 
still  charms  us  in  their  lays. 


11 


TANOSH  THE  HERO. 

INTRODUCTION. 

IN  the  Mahommedan  east,  where  the  social 
relations  are  more  simple,  we  do  not  meet  with 
such  marked  contrasts  in  education  as  among 
ourselves.  The  amount  of  knowledge  is  not  great 
with  those  who  govern  as  Pashas,  Mollas,  and 
Kadis.  But  the  herdsman  and  the  sack-bearer, 
who  occupy  the  lowest  degrees  of  social  hierarchy, 
stand  comparatively  higher  in  their  intellectual 
development,  than  the  Irish  peasant  or  »the 
London  street-sweeper. 

The  Koran  is  the  religious  and  civil  code  for 
all — no  one  is  ignorant  of  its  contents;  and 


YANOSH   THE  HERO.  248 

these  develop  the  understanding,  whilst  lays  of 
celebrated  poets  and  the  charming  traditions  of 
the  people  satisfy  imagination  and  taste. 

This  kind  of  education  is  accessible  to  every 
one,  to  the  poor  as  to  the  rich,  and  thence  it 
comes  about  that  when  the  favour  of  chance 
raises  the  son  of  the  peasant,  the  pipe-dealer,  or 
the  slave  to  the  first  dignities  of  the  realm,  the 
low-born  men  keep  up  their  newly-attained 
station  with  an  aristocratic  dignity  most  strik- 
ing to  Europeans.  The  circle  of  notions  in 
which  the  new  dignitary  moves,  is  not  alto- 
gether strange  to  him.  The  cultivation  of  his 
mind  was  but  little  different  from  the  instruc- 
tion enjoyed  by  the  son  of  the  Pasha.  The 
higher  ranks  in  Turkey  and  Persia  have  no 
literature  of  their  own.  The  productions  of  the 
poet  and  the  story-teller  are  not  devoted  to  any 
peculiar  caste,  but  belong  to  the  people  at  large  ; 
they  sing  for  every  one  who  will  listen  to  them. 
The  case  is  different  with  us.  Knowledge  and 
experience  have  multiplied  to  so  great  a  mea- 
sure, that  very  few  can  comprise  all  the  results 
of  science.  The  relations  of  state  and  society 


244  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

have  grown  so  complicated  and  so  artificial,  that 
only  the  minority  of  a  nation  can  possibly  ac- 
quire the  means  of  studying  at  their  leisure,  or 
enjoying  the-  intellectual  acquisitions  of  modern 
times.  Not  only  in  respect  of  social  position,  and 
of  wealth  and  refinement,  but  even  as  to  educa- 
tion, to  the  direction  of  feelings  and  thoughts, 
and  in  consequence  their  way  of  expression,  a 
wide  gap  exists  with  us  between  the  higher  and 
lower  classes. 

As  in  ancient  Koine,  .the  Plebeians  and  the 
Patricians,  so  now  in  the  most  civilized  states  of 
modern  Europe,  under  the  apparent  dominion 
of  free  institutions,  we  meet  two  entirely  diffe- 
rent nations  opposed  to  one  another,  if  not 
inimically,  yet  at  least  as  strangers.  This  schism 
is  fully  explained  by  the  difference  of  social 
position  and  by  the  neglect  of  the  people's  edu- 
cation ;  and  cannot  with  any  conscientious 
scrutiny  be  traced  to  the  first  epoch  of  con- 
quests, and  be  attributed  to  the  difference  of 
races. 

In  England  unmixed  Saxon  or  Norman  blood 
is  as  little  to  be  found  as  in  France  purely  Gallic 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  245 

or  Frank  offspring.  In  the  higher,  equally  as 
in  the  lower  classes,  we  find  many  descendants 
both  of  the  conquerors,  and  of  the  conquered ; 
yet,  in  spite  of  this  fact,  the  distance  between 
the  more  and  less  elevated  orders  is  as  great  as 
if  the  aristocracy  had  in  our  own  days  estab- 
lished itself  by  unscrupulous  force  :  and  the 
common  people  fancy  that  the  rich  mete  out  to 
them  no  other  justice  than  that  of  the  insolent 
Gaul,  who  threw  his  sword  into  the  scale. 

The  turn  of  mind  in  these  two  distinct 
bodies — for  the  rich  of  the  middle  class  have 
everywhere  more  or  less  amalgamated  with  the 
aristocracy — differs  so  entirely  from  each  other, 
that  they  conceive  their  interests  to  be  in  oppo- 
sition. They  remain  strangers  in  social  relation 
— strangers  in  their  thoughts,  and  their  feelings. 

Since  the  systematic  national  debt,  and  in- 
creased taxation  have  made  longer  and  severer 
labour  habitual  to  the  people,  the  leisure  time 
and  spare  energies  of  the  poor  prove  insufficient 
to  inquire  the  knowledge  possessed  by  our  age. 
The  waste  of  public  money  has  not  enriched  the 
lower  orders,  either  morally  or  materially  ;  whilst 


246  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

the  higher  ranks  have  increased  in  wealth  and 
refinement,  and  thus  are  separated  from  the  mass 
of  the  population. 

This  contrast  became  too  striking  to  be  over- 
looked, when  it  threatened  the  security  of  the 
reigning  classes.  In  Ireland,  for  example, 
through  many  a  long  mile  no  house  is  to  be 
met  offering  perfect  shelter  against  wind  and 
weather.  But  pauperism  is  not  stopped  at  the 
hut  of  the  starved  tenant ;  the  castle  of  the 
landlord,  too,  who  did  not  prevent  the  misery 
of  the  people,  is  sold  by  the  Encumbered 
Estates'  Commission,  or  is  swallowed  up  by  poor- 
rates. 

In  France,  indeed,  every  political  revolution 
was  more  or  less  a  social  one,  attacking  not  only 
the  privileges  of  orders,  but  likewise  property. 
So  now  in  England,  philanthropy  and  politics, 
Christian  duty  and  fear  of  the  Proletarians,  have 
begun  to  inquire  into  the  state  of  labour,  and 
of  the  poor.  Philosophical  research,  and  not 
seldom  thoughtless  curiosity,  have  unfolded  the 
mysteries  of  low  life.  Infant  asylums  and 
ragged  schools,  emigration  companies  and 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  247 

cheap  buildings,  workhouses  and  model-prisons 
have  been  established.  Social  theories  have 
been  advanced,  and  refuted ;  and  statistics, 
both  official  and  private,  published  on  this 
subject.  Yet  all  this  has  only  served  to  confirm 
the  belief,  that  society  is  divided  into  two 
opposed  parties,  to  unite  which,  all  efforts  have 
hitherto  proved  ineffective.  Every  one  sees  the 
dangers  of  the  present  state  of  society,  but  no 
one  knows  how  to  avoid  them. 

It  was  natural  that  the  writers  of  fiction  took 
no  different  course  from  the  philosopher  and  the 
statesman.  More  than  one  economist,  develop- 
ing his  fanciful  theories,  unconsciously  became 
a  poet,  and  more  than  one  poet  became  a  dry 
economist ;  his  novels  were  nothing  but  political 
principles,  mise  en  scene. 

But  the  people  as  little  read  the  dreams  of 
the  philosopher  as  the  dry  systems  of  the  poet. 
Their  imagination  has  ever  had  a  different  course. 
In  its  tales  and  its  traditions  are  preserved  such 
treasures  of  poetry,  that  they  can  easily  do  with- 
out the  artificial  productions  officiously  offered 
them.  But  certainly  it  is  not  easy  to  write 


248  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

for  the  people.  The  different  mould  of  the 
estranged  classes  makes  it  difficult  for  the  author 
to  adapt  his  ideas  to  the  notions  of  the  lower 
orders.  He  too  often  ascribes  to  them  desires, 
privations,  and  views,  that  belong  to  a  totally 
different  society. 

This  was  the  case  in  the  earliest  times.  The 
bucolic  songs  of  those  great  Alexandrian  scho- 
lars, Theocritus,  Moschos,  and  Bion,  and  the 
eclogues  of  Virgil,  are  as  little  faithful  pictures 
of  ancient  pastoral  life,  as  the  shepherd  comedies 
under  Louis  the  Fifteenth,  or  -the  idyls  of  the 
German  Gessner  give  accurate  notions  of  the 
country  pleasures  in  these  times.  Charles 
Dickens's  novels,  and  even  those  of  Eugene 
Sue,  have  had  a  great  effect  on  the  population, 
but  chiefly  in  the  towns  whose  corruptions  they 
prominently  portray. 

The  simple  life  of  the  country  people  has  also 
become  the  subject  of  several  lovely  tales  per- 
vaded by  more  truth,  and  therefore  by  more 
poetry,  than  the  bucolic  songs  of  previous  centu- 
ries. Auerbach's  and  Weill's  tales  are  known  in 
England,  by  Mrs.  Taylor's  and  Lady  Duff  Gor- 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  249 

don's  elegant  translations.  Still  more  charm- 
ing than  these  are  the  novels  of  George 
Sand,  "La  Mare  au  Diable,"  "Le  Champi," 
and  "  La  petite  Fadette."  They  are  radiant  with 
the  pure  gold  of  this  great  poetess's  imagination, 
without  any  of  the  dross  that  stains  so  many  of 
her  compositions. 

These  pictures  of  rural  life  are  unostentatious. 
Their  horizon  does  not  extend  beyond  the  steeple 
of  the  next  village ;  the  groups  they  sketch  are 
inartificial,  and  wholly  devoid  of  the  theatrical 
effect  with  which  the  Bulwers,  Dumases,  and 
Sues,  dazzle  the  mind.  The  hero  is  no  pri- 
soner; he  commits  no. murder  or  suicide;  he  is 
not  hanged ;  he  does  not  even  come  into  contact 
with  the  police  ;  and  nevertheless  the  situations 
are  so  varied  and  so  attractive,  that  they  fix 
and  satisfy  the  attention  of  the  reader  and  purify 
the  soul  far  more — which,  according  to  Aris- 
totle, is  the  aim  of  tragedy — than  the  soul-stirring 
novels  so  popular  with  circulating  libraries. 

Yet,  great  as  is  the  delight  offered  by  these 
tales  to  the  higher  orders  of  society,  it  is 

doubtful  whether  their  charm   is  fully  enjoyed 
11* 


250  POPULAR  TALES    OF  HUNGARY. 

by  the  people.  The  uneducated  poor  find  little 
interest  in  faithful  pictures  of  their  toilful  ex- 
istence. Their  imagination  loves  not  the  con- 
fined limits  of  their  daily  doings  and  strivings, 
but  soars  from  the  soil  of  reality  to  the  realm 
of  supernatural  powers.  Giants  and  sorcerers, 
dragons  and  fairies,  are  the  creatures  of  its 
dreams :  and  it  loves  the  tales  in  which  these 
visions  are  reproduced.  Therefore  the  peasant 
gladly  listens  to  the  mate,  and  to  the  soldier, 
who  relate  the  wonders  of  the  sea,  and  of  dis- 
tant countries ;  the  most  adventurous  and  fabu- 
lous tale  excites  most  admiration,  and  is  so 
often  repeated  with  applause  by  the  story-teller, 
that,  with  the  credulity  inherent  in  the  many,  he 
at  last  himself  believes  he  has  really  seen  and 
heard  what  he  describes. 

A  tale  of  this  kind  is  John  the  Hero,  the 
popular  Hungarian  poem  of  Alexander  Petofy  ;  it 
gives  us  a  faithful  picture  of  the  life  of  the  Hun- 
garian peasant,  and  of  the  turn  of  his  imagination. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  the  great  af- 
finity between  this  poem  and  the  Arabian  Tales. 
-The  hero  does  not  remain  in  the  humble  sphere 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  251 

of  his  birth  ;  he  becomes  a  soldier,  and  all  the 
marvels  of  distant  countries  are  introduced  into 
the  tale,  which  farther  proceeds  to  the  fairy 
land  in  which  the  vulgar  delight.  The  opening 
of  the  poem  is  therefore  a  simple  village  tale  in 
truth,  without  the  deep  insight  into  the  heart 
found  in  the  pages  of  Auerbach,  or  of  George 
Sand,  but  abounding  in  striking  incidents,  all 
characteristically  Hungarian,  amidst  the  peculiar 
scenery  of  the  great  plain  of  the  Theiss,  sketched 
with  the  most  faithful  accuracy,  and  intense  feel- 
ing for  the  beauties  of  nature. 

The  poet  leads  us  with  marked  consistency 
through  all  the  changes  of  daily  phenomena. 
"Whenever  he  mentions  sunrise,  its  course  is 
precisely  recorded  during  that  whole  portion  of 
the  tale ;  and  the  scenes  of  nature  are  always 
brought  into  connection  with  the  hero's  dispo- 
sition of  mind :  the  scenery  is  not  a  lifeless 
ornament,  but  an  organic  part  of  the  poem. 
But  this  is  a  characteristic  feature  with  primitive 
ballads,  and  national  songs  in  general.  The 
Hungarian  national  songs  often  begin  with 
some  words  describing  nature,  and  solely  linked 


252  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

by  the  rhyme  to  the  lay,  forming  apparently  a 
dissonance  ;  and  yet  this  abrupt  transition  is  not 
unfavourable  to  the  harmony  of  the  impression, 
as  that  unconnected  phrase  serves  to  impress 
the  soul  with  the  disposition  required  by  the  lay 
which  it  thus  introduces ;  it  is  in  fact  like  a 
prelude  to  a  piece  of  music.  Its  charm  can 
hardly  be  preserved  in  any  translation,  and  so 
much  the  less  when  the  version  is  unrhymed, 
as  the  one  I  have  attempted.  The  original  tale 
written  in  four-lined  stanzas  of  alexandrines,  is 
well  adapted  in  the  Hungarian  language  for 
popular  tales.  In  the  translation  I  have  adopted 
blank  verse,  in  order  not  to  be  diverted  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  rhyme  from  following  the 
original  exactly,  though  not  unaware  that  the 
simplicity  of  an  idyl  is  little  fit  for  this  metre,  in 
which  the  deficiency  in  the  musical  element 
needs  to  be  supplied  by  the  richness  and  pomp 
of  the  style,  which  therefore  better  suits  the 
rhetorical  declamation  of  Eoman  poetry  than 
the  account  of  a  peasant's  life.  But  to  a  trans- 
lation in  prose  my  feeling  still  more  objected; 
as  even  the  most  conscientious  one  can  never 


YANOSH   THE  HERO.  253 

give  a  more  precise  notion  of  the  original  than 
perhaps  the  back  of  a  Gobelin  tapestry  of  its 
face ;  we  see  the  same  lines,  the  same  colours, 
yet  by  no  means  the  same  harmony.  May, 
therefore,  my  essay  be  excused  by  my  desire  to 
give  the  English  public  a  specimen  of  Hungarian 
popular  poetry,  not  wholly  shapeless,  and  yet  in 
its  spirit  faithfully  adhering  to  the  original. 

The  continuation  of  the  tale,  which  describes 
the  hero's  soldier-life,  will  appear  very  strange 
to  many  readers ;  but  its  adventurous  character  is 
one  of  the  features  most  striking  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  Hungarian  peasant. 

The  Obsitos  (hussar  on  furlough,)  is  always 
very  popular  in  the  peasant's  hut,  and  in  the 
public-house.  After  ten,  often  after  twenty 
years,  during  which  he  has  been  mostly  stationed 
in  foreign  countries,  he  at  last  returns  to  the 
village  of  his  birth,  where  relatives  and  friends 
triumphantly  greet  him.  As  an  experienced 
man,  who  has  seen  the  world,  he  relates  his 
adventures  over  a  jug  of  wine  to  the  wondering 
people.  All  he  has  seen  and  heard  assumes  a 
fabulous  shape  in  his  memory ;  and  from  fond- 


254  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

ness  of  being  admired,  and  with  the  natural 
desire  to  appear  something  very  wonderful,  lie 
tells  the  most  astounding  stories. 

One  remembrance  ever  fills  him  with  disgust 
— the  retrospect  of  his  tiresome  service  in  times 
of  peace,  when  he  was  compelled  daily  to  clean 
the  buttons  of  his  regimentals  like  so  many  mir- 
rors ;  the  irksomeness  of  this  duty  he  never  can 
forget.  But  then  he  relates  with  a  more  radiant 
countenance,  how  he  passed  the  Alps,  and  saw 
that  they  reached  up  to  the  moon,  so  that  he  was 
able  to  caress  her  jolly  face. 

"  What  then  did  the  moon  do  when  you 
kissed  her  jolly  face?" 

"  Saucy  lad/'  interrupts  the  greybeard :  "  she 
complacently  purred  like  a  cat." 

He  proceeds  to  describe  how  he  got  farther 
and  farther  to  the  very  last  end  of  the  world. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  there  ?"  inquires  a  pert 
little  girl. 

"  Well,  I  sat  down  on  the  brink  of  the  world, 
and  swung  my  feet  over  the  boundless  nothing" 

"  And  have  you  not  likewise  been  up  to 
heaven,  Bacsi?"  is  again  inquired. 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  255 

"  To  be  sure,  I  was  there  once." 

"  Goodness  me,  how  pleasant  that  must  have 
been !  Certainly,  up  above,  there  is  no  need  to 
work,  and  food  and  wine  are  in  plenty." 

u  Silly  boy,"  retorts  the  old  hussar ;  "  there  is 
work  enough.  The  stars  have  to  be  cleaned  all 
day  long  with  chalk  and  spirits,  so  that  in  the 
evening  when  they  are  hung  up,  they  may  shine 
brilliantly,  and  there  is  little  rest  for  the  soldier, 
as  the  old  saints  have  all  double  sentinels  at 
their  doors.  But  the  Temple  of  St.  Peter !  that 
is  the  largest  building  all  over  the  earth,  and  far 
prettier  than  anything  I  knew  in  heaven."  He 
continues  : — "  When  we  were  commanded  there 
to  the  church  parade,  we  were  obliged  to  keep 
two  days  of  rest  before  we  could  get  from  the 
gate  to  the  chief  altar." 

But  all  these  accounts  are  dull  in  comparison 
with  the  sketches  the  hussar  gives  of  his  feats. 

"At  Leipzig/'  he  continues,  "the  Emperor 
Napoleon  fled,  and  I  took  him  prisoner  with  my 
own  hands.  But  the  Empress,  Maria  Louisa, 
who  sat  in  the  carriage  at  the  side  of  her  consort, 
wept  so  bitterly,  that  I  released  the  Emperor, 


t 

256  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

and  the  empress  presented  me  in  gratitude  with 
her  gold  watch." 

"  But  where  is  the  gold  watch  ?"  inquires  the 
village  notary. 

"  Mister  Notary,  this  you  do  not  understand," 
says  the  hussar.  "  My  Lieutenant  was  once 
embarrassed  for  money,  and  the  Jews  gave  him 
no  more  credit,  so  I  made  him  a  present  of  the 
gold  watch  that  he  might  not  be  put  on  reduced 
allowance." 

The  adventures  of  the  hero  Yanosh  are  of  a 
similar  kind.  The  geographical  knowledge  of  a 
Hungarian  hussar  is  still  less  perfect  than  that 
of  a  well-informed  Frenchman,  who,  as  is  gene- 
rally known,  little  excels  in  that  branch  of 
science.  To  the  Hungarian  soldier  it  is  only 
familiar  in  connection  with  certain  historical 
reminiscences.  The  tradition  of  the  Mongol 
invasion  under  Batu-Khan  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury is  still  current  in  Hungary,  and  the  tale 
of  dog-headed  Tartars — this  is  the  name  given 
to  the  Mongols  by  the  Hungarian  annalists — 
remains  most  popular.  A  man  who  has  seen 
the  world  and  encountered  many  dangers,  must 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  257 

in  the  opinion  of  the  peasants  necessarily 
have  been  in  the  country  of  the  dog-heads. 
Of  Italy  the  hussar  only  recollects  that  the 
rosemary,  which  in  his  own  country  is  but  a 
shrub,  becomes  there  a  thick  and  lofty  bush, 
and  that  he  himself  suffered  in  the  distant  land 
much  more  from  cold  than  at  home,  whose  people 
are  better  provided  against  the  hard  season  than 
in  the  southern  climates,  in  which  closely  fitting 
doors,  double  windows,  and  stoves  are  utterly 
unknown.  %  Of  France  he  has  likewise  some 
idea,  remembering  that  for  twenty  years  he  has 
fought  against  the  French,  though  he  is  igno- 
rant why;  all  he  recollects  is  that  it  was 
always  said  the  King,  having  been  unjustly 
robbed  of  his  crown,  must  again  be  set  upon 
his  throne.  And  this  poor  sovereign  (Louis 
the  Eighteenth)  is  by  no  means  a  hero ;  he 
does  not  go  with  his  army,  but  is  an  amiable, 
kind-hearted  man,  especially  fond  of  a  good  table. 
These  few  traditional  notions  are  worked  out 
with  great  skiy.  in  the  second  part  of  Petofy's 
poem ;  though  in  the  translation  it  will  appear 
clumsy  and  little  short  of  prosaic,  still  it  is  a 


258  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

faithful  copy  of  the  hussar's  adventurous  ac- 
count. The  reader's  patience  is  entreated  to 
the  early  part  of  the  tale,  which  is  by  no  means 
equal  in  merit  to  the  latter  portion.  If  he  will 
persevere  in  reading,  he  will  probably  find  that 
he  is  repaid  for  any.  little  eifort  which  it  may 
require. 

In  the  third  part  the  hero  reaches  fairy- 
land, a  theme  well  known  by  the  traditions  and 
tales  of  the  East  and  of  the  West ;  but  the  form 
is  nevertheless  differently  moulded*  with  every 
different  people. 

In  the  Hungarian  fairy-tale  the  number  three 
is  always  of  the  highest  importance.  The  hero 
has  always  three  principal  adventures;  he  de- 
livers three  unhappy  Princesses,  every  spell- 
bound palace  has  three  gates,  every  magician 
and  every  witch  assumes  three  different  shapes. 
But  the  peculiar  stamp  of  the  Hungarian  fairy- 
tale consists  in  a  greater  dryness  of  imagina- 
tion than  pervades  the  charming  Arabian  Tales, 
to  which  in  brilliancy  of  style  they  are  more 
similar  than  to  the  genuine  simplicity  of  the 
German  Tales. 


FANOSH,    THE   HERO.  259 

The  poem  of  Petofy'has  all  the  faults  and  all 
the  merits  of  the  Hungarian  legend.  "When 
John  the  hero  loses  himself  in  the  enchanted 
wood  and  thus  steps  into  the  fairy  land,  he  first 
meets  the  rock-eating  giants,  who  remind  us  of 
the  giants  of  northern  mythology ;  but  after  he 
has  conquered  them,  his  second  adventure  comes 
on — one  of  quite  a  mediaeval  kind — his  struggle 
with  the  witches.  When  he  has  punished 
them,  and  has  not  been  terrified  by  the  ghosts, 
he  gets  to  the  fairy  sea,  which  separates  the 
physical  world  from  the  abode  of  the  genii, 
living  in  eternal  felicity  at  the  source  of  youth. 
It  is  obvious  that  the  charming  tradition  of 
Avalon  and  of  the  Venus-mountain,  which  we 
find  in  the  mediaeval  poems  all  over  Europe, 
have  their  root  in  classical  antiquity.  Grecian 
phantasy  long  since  dreamed  of  the  isles  shining 
in  lovely  twilight  in  the  distant  West  beyond 
the  Pillars  of  Hercules ;  and  the  Atlantis  as 
well  as  the  Isle  of  Leuk6,  to  which  Thetis  leads 
her  son  Achilles  on  sea-horses,  accompanied  by 
Tritons  and  Nereides,  to  wed  him  to  the  beau- 
tiful Helena,  are  variations  of  tnat  tradition 


260  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

which  still  finds  its  echo'  in  the  poem  of  Petofy. 
The  fairy  Queen  Helen  has  in  fact  survived 
the  Greek  tale ;  she  remained  popular  in  the 
middle  ages  even  before  the  revival  of  classical 
studies  ;  and  the  German  Faust  too  is  wedded  to 
her. 

The  loadstone  island,  with  the  Venus-moun- 
tain, which  we  find  in  the  fairy  tales  of  the 
East,  and  in  the  traditions  of  Charlemagne,  is 
derived  from  the  Blessed  Isles  of  the  ancients. 
Moreover,  the  Castle  of  Ivalon,  in  the  Celtic 
tradition  of  the  "Bound  Table,"  is  intimately 
connected  with  them.  The  Gardens  of  Armida 
too,  a  radiant  episode  in  Tasso's  beautiful  poem, 
belongs  to  the  same  stem.  The  idea  of  an 
early  abode,  where  life  is  free  from  all  troubles, 
and  is  solely  spent  in  enjoyment,  has  excited  the 
imagination  of  all  ages,  and  such  blessed  spots 
have  been  adorned  with  all  the  sweet  blossoms  of 
poetry.  But  even  after  such  illustrious  models, 
the  description,  as  given  by  the  Hungarian  poet, 
presents  one  of  the  most  lovely  creations  of 
imagination. 

We    cannot    close    these   short   observations 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  261 

on  fairy-land  without  calling  the  attention  of 
the  reader  to  two  deeply  interesting  mediaeval 
traditions,  in  which  the  difference  of  the  Latin 
and  the  German  conception  is  fully  expressed. 
According  to  the  German  tradition,  the  gods  of 
antiquity  are  not  the  production  of  Hellenic 
imagination — they  have  a  real  existence.  They 
are  demons,  whose  power  has  been  broken  only 
by  Christianity.  Since  that  time  they  live  in  the 
Venus-mountain  in  eternal  enjoyment,  ruled  by 
the  Goddess  of  Beauty.  Whoever  prefers  earthly 
enjoyment  to  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  may  go  to 
this  radiant  realm,  to  which  all  paths  open — but 
there  is  no  returning ! 

"  Facilis  descensus  Averni,"  &c. 

Among  others,  the  Knight  Tannhauser  was 
tempted  to  this  adventure.  He  went  to  the 
Venus-mountain,  and  there  won  the  heart  of  the 
Queen  of  Love.  He  lived  in  a  continued  dream 
of  felicity. 

Three  years  passed  away  like  three  days. 
But  at  length  the  fond  smiles  of  Venus  could 
no  longer  silence  the  longings  of  his  heart ; 
his  torpid  existence  pressed  heavily  upon  him ; 
he  felt,  that  enjoyment  itself  grows  painful, 
if  not  varied  by  toil  ;  that  only  the  exertion 


262  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

of  the  faculties  enables  men  to  enjoy.  Dis- 
content began  to  prey  upon  him ;  he  attempted 
to  escape,  but  there  was  no  outlet  from  the 
labyrinth  of  pleasure.  The  attraction  of  the 
loadstone  mountain  prevented  his  flight.  He 
now  went  to  the  Queen,  and  freely  owned  to  her 
that  he  wished  to  return  to  the  earth  and  its 
troubles,  to  expiate  his  sin  by  waging  war  against 
the  infidels,  and  to  do  penance  by  mortification 
of  his  flesh,  for  having  preferred  terrestrial  bliss 
to  everlasting  salvation.  The  Queen  shed  tears 
when  she  heard  his  lamentations.  She  entreated 
him  to  remain,  representing  that  if  he  could  not 
endure  the  unvaried  serenities  of  joy,  he  would 
be  still  less  able  to  bear  incessant  repentance ; 
and  that  after  he  had  tasted  happiness  with  her 
the  consciousness  of  having  lost  it  would  over- 
shadow every  earthly  joy  with  a  tinge  of  regret. 
Yet  the  Knight  persisted  in  his  desire.  Expia- 
tion was  to  be  his  enjoyment,  the  hope  to  save 
his  soul  his  only  bliss. 

The  Queen  loved  him  truly,  and  therefore 
yielded  to  his  fervent  entreaties.  The  gates  of 
the  mountain  were  opened :  she  paid  him  a  glow- 
ing farewell,  which  thrilled  to  his  heart ;  he  fled 
without  once  looking  back,  fearing  lest  his 
strength  might  fail  in  the  last  moment. 


YANOSH,  THE   HERO.  263 

It  was  Maundy  Thursday,  and  the  Pope 
Urbanus,  broken  by  years,  supporting  himself  on 
his  stick,  was  going  in  full  procession  to  the 
lofty  Lateran  through  the  streets  of  Rome,  when 
a  noble  Knight,  barefooted  and  clad  in  garment 
of  camel's  hair,  stopped  his  way,  prostrated  him- 
self at  his  feet,  and  entreated  his  absolution. 
He  loudly  confessed  before  the  people,  that  he 
was  the  greatest  sinner  on  earth,  and  unworthy 
of  forgiveness,  as  he  had  spent  three  whole  years 
in  the  Venus-mountain.  But  the  grace  of  Heaven, 
he  said,  was  boundless ;  the  Pope  might,  there- 
fore, free  him  from  his  sin ! 

The  grey -haired  Pope  stepped  backward  horri- 
fied, and  exclaimed :  "  Unfortunate  !  there  is  no 
grace  for  thee :  no  repentance  can  atone  for  thy 
sin.  Thou  hast  sought  heaven  on  earth:  the 
gates  of  paradise  are  now  for  ever  closed  to  thee. 
So  long  as  this  dry  stick  does  not  sprout  with 
leaves,  and  with  blossoms,  so  long  thy  sins  must 
remain  unforgiven." 

The  noble  Knight  calmly  rose.  He  changed 
his  penitent  garb  for  a  magnificent  dress,  clad 
his  bare  feet  in  shining  boots,  vaulted  upon  a 
steed,  and  hastened  back  to  the  Venus-mountain 
to  the  Queen  of  Love.  If  he  had  really  lost 


264  POPULAR   TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

heaven,  he  resolved  to  drain  the  cup  of  earthly 
enjoyment  down  to  the  lees. 

But  when  the  Pope  awoke  on  Good  Friday,  he 
beheld  with  astonishment  that  his  stick  was 
covered  with  leaves  and  blossoms,  to  show 
him  how  foolish  it  is  to  deprive  the  sinner  of 
hope,  which  alone  can  give  him  the  strength  to 
expiate  his  sins. 

The  French  tale  of  Ogier  le  Danois  takes  a 
different  turn  from  the  German  tradition.  The 
hero  returning  from  Jerusulem,  encountered  a 
storm,  and  his  vessel  drifts  over  the  sea  till  she 
comes  near  the  rock  of  loadstone,  which  in  that 
tale  is  called  the  Castle  of  Avalon.  To  this  the 
ship  is  attracted  with  irresistible  force,  and  as 
she  draws  nigh  all  the  iron  nails  are  rent  from 
her  planks,  and  she  falls  asunder.  Of  the  whole 
crew  no  one  is  saved  but  Ogier,  who  is  thrown 
on  shore. 

He  thanks  Heaven,  rises,  and  approaches  the 
palace  ;  but  two  fierce  lions  oppose  his  entrance. 
He  struggles  with  them,  vanquishes  both,  and 
steps  over  the  threshold.  Here  he  is  greeted  by 
the  Fairy  Morgana,  the  Queen  of  the  resplendent 
abode.  But  Ogier  has  no  eye  for  the  magnifi- 
cence around  him;  his  mind  is  turned  to  his 


Y  ANOSH,    THE   HERO.  265 

own  country,  he  sighs  for  his  people,  he  longs 
for  his  home.  When  the  fairy  sees  this,  she 
takes  the  golden  crown  from  her  head,  and 
places  it  upon  his  brow.  It  has  hardly  been 
pressed  by  the  brilliant  circle,  when  the  re- 
membrance of  his  nation  and  his  country 
escapes  his  memory ;  they  are  estranged  from 
his  heart,  and  he  has  forgotten  them :  no  care 
for  them  thrills  through  his  veins,  or  over- 
shadows his  bright  dreams  of  royal  grandeur 
and  supreme  power. 

A  century  he  thus  spent  on  the  throne  of  the 
fairy,  in  careless  forgetfulness  and  unvarying 
enjoyment.  But  his  native  land  is  now  invaded 
by  danger  and  war,  the  unsheathed  swords  of 
his  countrymen  are  stained  with  blood,  thousands 
of  their  brave  sons  are  slain,  arid  the  wailings  of 
the  mothers,  wives,  sisters  and  brides,  fill  the 
air  with  a  distress  so  intense  and  so  loud,  that  it 
reaches  even  to  Avalon,  and  makes  the  crown 
tremble  on  the  brow  of  Ogier.  Then,  at  length, 
he  is  struck  by  remorse,  and  flinging  away  the 
golden  crown,  he  hears  the  cries  of  his  people — 
he  feels  all  his  love  for  his  country  revive,  and 
hastens  from  the  palace  of  oblivious  enjoyment, 
to  relieve  his  suffering  brethren.  He  now  hears 

from  all  sides :  "  Ogier,  Ogier  alone  can  protect 
12 


266  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

us  !"  He  draws  his  sword — lie  fights  for  his 
country,  for  his  people — he  conquers  their  ene- 
mies, and  dies  the  death  of  a  hero. 


Alexander  Petofy's  fate  is  no  less  poetical 
than  his  lays.  His  talent  had  just  dawned  over 
the  country,  and  he  had  obtained  the  hand  of  a 
young  person,  who,  by  her  fortune,  offered  him 
an  independent  livelihood,  when  the  year  1848 
broke  in  with  its  commotions. 

He  first  took  an  active  part  in  politics. 
When  the  war  began  he  entered  the  army ;  he 
fought  for  his  country,  and  sang  its  glory ;  but 
since  the  last  unfortunate  battles  in  Transylvania, 
he  has  disappeared ;  his  fate  is  unknown. 

"With  poetical  feeling  he  seems  to  have  sur- 
mised the  days  to  come  in  the  following  lay, 
written  in  1843. 


MY  DEATH. 

IF  the  Lord  from  heav'n  His  voice  would  utter : 
"  Hark,  my  son !  I  proffer  now  to  thee — 

Choose  thy  death,  and  death  shall  do  thy  bidding !" 
None  but  this  my  prayer  to  God  would  be  : 


YANOSH,   THE  HERO.  267 

Autumn  be  it — clear  and  lovely  autumn- 
Yellow  leaf  lit  up  by  sunny  ray  : 

Let  there  sing  its  parting  lay  a  robin, 
Left  behind  by  the  departed  May. 

When  the  destin'd  hour  arrives  to  Nature, 
Death  on  Autumn  steals  with  noiseless  pace : 

So  may  Death  unseen,  unfelt,  approach  me, 
Shrouded,  till  his  breath  has  touch'd  my  face, 

Like  the  bird  then  warbling  on  the  branches, 

Let  me  chant  a  lay  before  I  die ; 
Notes  which  search,  and  fill  the  heart's  recesses — 

Notes  which  soar  and  strike  the  lofty  sky. 

When  my  parting  song  shall  thus  be  ended, 

May  my  lips  be  sealed  with  a  kiss — 

Kiss  of  love  from  thee,  my  lovely  maiden — 

Fairest,  dearest  girl,  my  earthly  bliss  ! 

But  if  PowT'r  above  such  fate  refuse  me, 

Let  me,  then,  in  Spring  be  calPd  to  rest ; 
Spring  of  mighty  war,  when  roses  blossom, 

Bloody  roses,  on  the  warrior's  breast ! 

Then  with  sounds  soul-stirring  let  the  trumpet — 

Nightingale  of  war — be  heard  to  sound : 
Whilst  with  gory  roses  on  my  bosom, 

Hero-like  in  death,  I  seek  the  ground ! 

When  my  weight  drops  swooning  from  the  saddle, 

May  my  lips  be  sealed  by  a  kiss — 
Kiss  from  thee,  O  Freedom !  heav'nly  maiden ! 

Glorious  Freedom !  thou  my  heavenly  bliss ! 


YANOSH,*    THE    HERO. 


THE  sun  burns  glowing  from  the  top  of  heaven 
Down  on  the  shepherd  :  hot  enough  is  he, 
For  in  his  heart  too  glows  the  fire  of  love. 
His  cattle  graze  upon  the  village  common, 
And  on  the  village  common  whilst  they  graze, 
He  on  his  sheepskinf  idly  stretches  him. 
A  sea  of  gaudy  flowers  unfolds  around, 
Yet  not  on  these  his  glance  is  gladly  bent, 
But  where,  a  stone's-throw  off,  a  streamlet  flows, 
Thither  his  gaze  is  turned ;  for  'mid  the  waves, 
Restless  with  ripples,  lo !  a  maiden  stands : 
Golden  her  tresses,  sunny  bright  her  face ; 
Up  to  her  knee  reaches  the  limpid  flood, 
Wherein  she  deftly  dips  her  linen  store. 
Yon  shepherd  on  the  turf  reclined  at  ease — 
Who  could  it  be  but  Yantshe  Kukoricza?' 
And  she  who  washes  linen  is  Hush,* 
The  pearlshell  of  her  sweetest  Yantshe's  heart. 

"  Dear  pearlshell  of  my  heart,  Ilushka,  sweet !" 
He  said,  "thou  art. my  only  bliss  on  earth! 

*  Janos,  pronounce  Yanosh,  is  John ;  Jancsi,  pro- 
nounce Yantshe,  Johnny. 

f  The  sheep-fur,  shuba,  is  the  inseparable  garment  of 
the  shepherd,  even  in  summer. 

J  Ilona  is  Ellen,  diminutive  Ilushka  and  Bush. 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  269 

Ah !  of  thine  eyes  one  glance  on  me  bestow ! 

Step  out  to  grant  me  but  a  single  kiss, — 

But  for  a  little  moment  come,  my  life, 

While  on  thy  ruddy  lips  my  soul  I  press." 

"  Thou  know'st,  my  soul,*  that  I  would  come  with  joy, 

But  I  must  hasten  with  my  linen  here ; 

I  must,  or  they  will  hardly  deal  with  me. — 

I  am  the  stepchild  of  my  father's  wife." 

This  said  Hush, and  sprightly  on  she  washed; 

But  now  the  shepherd  rises  from  his  sheepskin, 

Approaches  her,  and  says,  alluringly : 

"  Come  here,  my  dove — come  here  my  turtle-dove, 
But  for  a  moment — for  a  single  kiss  ! 
And  think,  the  bad  stepmother  is  not  here  : 
Let  not  thy  lover  die  with  longing  love." 

Such  tender  words  prevail'd    his  clasping  hands 
Her  neck  encircle;  lips  to  lips  are  pressed, 
How  often  none  but  the  All-knowing  knows. 


ii. 

The  hours  fled  quickly.     As  the  sun  sank  down, 
The  waves  were  gilded  by  its  parting  rays, 
While  the  stepmother  fretful  scolds  at  home. 
"  Where  is  Hush  ? — where  can  she  be  so  long  ? 
'Tis  time  I  go  and  see  what  she  has  done. 
If  she  has  idly  dawdled, — woe  to  her !" 
Woe,  woe  to  thee,  Hush !  poor  orphan  girl ! 
Behind  thee,  threatening,  stands  the  furious  witch : 
Her  large  mouth  opens,  wide  her  lungs  extend, 
And  quick  up-wake  thee  from  thy  dream  of  love. 

44  Thou  worthless  creature  !  dost  thou  thus  behave  ? 
Thou  steal'st  the  day  !  and  art  thou  not  ashamed  ? 

*  The  peasants   in   Hungary  address   one  another,  and 
also  those  higher  in  rank,  with  "Lelkem,"  my  soul. 


£70  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

Base,  shameless,  idle  wretch !  I  would  thou  wert — " 

"  Peace — hold — enough !  lest  silence  come  perforce  ; 
Hurt  not  Hush,  not  with  a  single  word : 
Forbear !  or  haply  you  shall  rue  my  fist.' 
For  the  protection  of  his  trembling  dove 
Thus  spoke  the  manly  keeper  of  the  flock ; 
And,  threatening  with  his  angry  glance,  he  said : 
"  Crone  !  if  you  would  not  see  your  house  in  flames, 
Touch  not  the  orphan  girl ;  she  works  enough ; 
Restless  she  ever  toils,  and  all  she  gets 
Is  but  dry  bread ;  and  this  is  grudged  to  her. 
Now  go,  Ilushka,  but  complain  to  me 
If  thou  art  wrong'd.     And  spare  thy  taunts,  old  hag ; 
Thou  too,  we  know,  not  always  wast  a  saint." 
His  sheepskin  now  the  shepherd  lifted  up, 
And  went  with  quicken'd  steps  to  seek  his  sheep. 
But  thunderstruck  was  he,  when  o'er  the  plain 
But  few  'he  saw,  still  grazing  here  and  there. 


m. 

Twilight  came  on  whilst  Yantshe  search'd  about, 
And  of  his  flock  barely  the  half  could  find. 
Is  thief,  is  prowling  wolf  to  blame  ?     Alas ! 
•He  knows  not:  but,  whate'er  the  cause,  they're  gone ! 
Search,  care,  and  sighs  are  vain.     What  must  he  do  ? 
Soon  purpos'd,  home  he  drove  his  lessen'd  flock. 

"  Thou  shalt  be  scolded,  Yantshe,  scolded  well !" 
He  muttered,  half  aloud,  and  sauntered  home. 
"  My  master  uses  to  be  cross — and  now ! 
But  oh !  may  Heav'n's  decree  be  always  done  !"* 
So  much,  no  more,  thought  he,  and  reach'd  the  gate ! 
Where  stood  his  master,  waiting  for  his  flock, 

*  Yantshe    is    obviously    a    Calvinist,    like    the    great 
majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Hungarian  Plain. 


YANOSH,   THE  HERO.  271 

To  count  it,  as  his  wont  was,  day  by  day. 

"  Fret  not  yourself  to  count ;  too  many  fail, 

Master,  I  own  with  grief  and  pain — too  late !" 

So  spake  the  shepherd ;  but  his  master  keen, 

Catching  the  sounds,  curl'd  his  moustachio  up  : 

"  No  trifling !  jests  I  hate ;  hear,  Yantshe,  mind, 

Rouse  not  my  anger — worse  it  were  for  thee !" 

But  quick  discerning  truth  in  Yantshe's  words, 

Madden'd  with  rage,  he  scream'd  with  frenzied  roar ; 

"  A  pitchfork !  pitchfork !  let  me  run  him  through ! 

Thou  thief,  thou  rascal,  scoundrel  villainous ! 

Oh !  may  the  raven  peck  out  both  thine  eyes ! 

Is  this  thy  thank  for  all  my  benefits  1 

Thou  rope-deserving  wretch,  avaunt ! — away  !" 

This  said,  a  pole  he  seiz'd,  and  fiercely  rush'd 

To  strike  at  Yantshe.     Yantshe  fled.     Yet  fear 

Urg'd  not  his  flight.     His  sturdy  twenty  years 

With  such  might  cope ;  but  conscious  guilt 

Palsied  his  heart ;  how  in  such  cause  could  he 

Strike  him,  who,  father-like,  had  brought  him  up  ? 

His  panting  master  soon  outstript,  he  stopped ; 

He  loitered, — he  returned, — roamed  left  and  right, — 

Forward  and  backward  rushed, — he  knew  not  whither. 


IV. 

When  in  the  mirror  of  the  rivulet  » 

Reflected  gleam'd  the  rays  of  thousand  stars, 
The  shepherd  found  himself  at  Hush's  door, 
Nor  knew  himself  how  he  had  thither  come. 
He  stopt,  and  drawing  forth  his  doleful  shalm, 
Of  all  his  lays  he  tuned  the  saddest  song. 
The  dew  which  fell  on  grass  and  bush,  it  was 
Perchance  the  tear  the  stars  in  pity  shed. 
Hush  already  slept.     In  summer  time, 
Above  the  porch  her  resting-place  was  made. 


272  POPULAR   TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

Now,  at  the  well-known  sounds  she  woke  and  rose, 

But  Yantshe's  sight  did  not  rejoice  her  heart ; 

It  frighten'd  her.     With  trembling  lips  she  spake : 

"  My  soul — my  Yantshe  !  why  art  thou  so  pale — 

Like  to  the  waning  moon  in  autumn's  night  V 

"  Alas,  Hush  !  how  should  I  not  be  pale, 

When  for  the  last,  perhaps,  I  see  thy  face !" 

"  Thy  look,  my  soul,  has  frightened  me  enough : 

Speak  not,  for  heav'n's  sake,  speak  not  such  a  tale  ! ' 

"  Spring  of  my  heart !  I  see  thee  not  again ! 

My  doleful  shalm  tunes  its  last  notes  to  thee ; 

I  give  thee  my  last  kiss,  for  aye  we  part, 

For  ever  thou  remainest  far  from  me  !" 

He  told  his  wretched  tale :  she  wept :  he  cast 

His  arms  around  her  neck,  but  turned  his  face, 

To  hide  the  tears  which  from  his  eyelid  stream'd. 

"  Now,  beautiful  Hush !  now,  sweetest  rose ! 

May  Heav'n  bless  thee !  of  me,  sometimes  think. 

Seest  thou  a  thistle  blown  about  by  storm, 

Remember  then  thy  erring  lover's  lot." 

"  Now,  Yantshe,  mine !  depart,  if  go  thou  must, 

And  Heaven's  grace  protect  thy  joyless  path ! 

Seest  thou  a  broken  flower  on  thy  way, 

Remember  then  thy  withering  sweetheart's  fate  !" 

They  parted,  as  the  leaf  parts  from  the  twig, 

And  both  their  hearts  with  winter  frost  were  chill'd. 

Ilushka's.  tears  fast  from  her  dim  eyes  flow'd, 

And  Yantshe  wip'd  them  with  his  hanging  sleeves. 

At  length  he  started  on  his  aimless  path  : 

The  shepherds  gaily  sang,  the  cattle's  bell 

Was  tinkling  at  his  side, — he  heard  it  not. 

The  village  lay  already  far  behind, 

Nor  saw  he  more  the  flick'ring  shepherd-fires. 

At  last  he  stopt,  and  backwards  bent  his  glance : 

Like  a  dark  ghost,  the  steeple  at  him  star'd, — 

Had  any  living  thing  beside  him  stood, 


YANOSH,    THE  HERO.  273 

It  might  have  heard  a  deadly-heaved  sigh. 
A  flock  of  cranes  soar'd  high  above  his  head ; 
Their  flight  was  far  aloft ;  they  heard  him  not. 
He  wandered  in  the  silence  of  the  night ; 
His  weighty  sheepskin  rustled  at  his  neck ; 
He  thought  the  sheepskin  pressed  so  heavily : 
But  no  !  the  load  that  press'd  him  was — his  heart. 


v. 

The  sun  had  ris'n,  and  chas'd  away  the  moon, 

Around  him  like  an  ocean  spread  the  lea, 

And  from  the  east  afar,  down  to  the  west, 

The  plain  extended  endless,  borderless, 

There  was  no  flower — there  was  no  tree — no  bush ; 

The  dew-drops  sparkled  on  the  scanty  grass,    ^ 

And  new-born  sunbeams  brightly  lighted  up 

A  reed-encircled  pond :  in  purple  hue, 

A  long-neck'd  heron  stept  along  the  edge, 

And  gravely  sought  his  food  amidst  the  reeds ; 

While  on  the  surface  of  the  pond,  the  mews 

Flew  swiftly  to  and  fro  with  hasty  wings. 

The  shepherd  wander'd  on  with  gloomy  thoughts. 
The  plain  around  was  overshed  with  light. 
But  in  his  soul  a  murky  darkness  reign'd. 
Now  at  the  top  of  heav'n  arrived  the  sun, 
And  Yantshe  of  the  mid-day  meal,  bethought  him, 
For  nought  since  yesternoon  had  pass'd  his  lips. 
His  wearied  limbs  could  hardly  bear  him  more. ; 
So  down  he  sat,  and  drew  his  knapsack  forth. 
And  cut  a  slice  of  his  remaining  lard. 
The  azure  sky  glanced  on  him  from  above, 
And  from  below  the  Fairy  Dtli  Bab.* 

*  "Deli    Bab,"    means    the   Fata    Morgana.      On    the 
unbounded  plains,  the  phenomenon  of  the  Fata  Morgana 
12* 


274  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

His  slender  meal  was  sweet ;  but  thirsty  grown, 
He  sought  the  pool,  dipp'd  in  his  bordered  hat, 
And  quench'd  his  thirst. .  Further  he  went,  but  soon 

not  seldom  startles  the  inexperienced  wanderer.  It  does 
not  here,  as  in  the  East,  astonish  by  reproducing  distant 
towns,  and  beautiful  scenery,  but  it  habitually  presents  the 
aspect  of  the  wide  sea,  which  covers  all  around. 

Over  the  great  plain,  from  the  Danube  down  to  Tran- 
sylvania, wre  find  everywhere  the  remains  of  a  wall  and 
a  canal,  which,  without  doubt,  are  of  Roman  origin, 
and  marked  the  Roman  frontier,  as  similar  walls  in 
England  arid  Southern  Germany.  The  Romans,  and 
the  nations  against-  whom  the  wall  was  erected,  were 
forgotten  long  before  the  Hungarians  took  possession  of 
the  counta.  These,  therefore,  know  nothing  of  the  real 
origin  of  the  wall ;  no  Roman  tradition  survived  in  the 
plains  of  Tisza.  But  the  imagination  of  the  people 
created  a  charming  legend,  in  which  this  wall  is  con- 
nected with  the  Fata  Morgana,  so  often  to  be  met  in  those 
parts. 

Csb'rsz,  as  the  shepherds  tell,  was  the  gallant  son  of  the 
King  of  the  Transylvanian  Alps,  whose  treasures  of 
gold  and  salt  are  greater  than  those  of  all  the  kings  and 
princesses  in  the  world.  CsOrsz  •  heard  of  the  celestial 
beauty  of  Deli  Bab,  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Southern  Sea  (Adriatic),  and  his  heart  was  inflamed 
with  love  for  her.  He  therefore  sent  his  heralds  from 
his  Alps  down  to  the  borders  of  the  Adriatic,  with  loads 
of  the  most  costly  gifts  of  salt  and  gold,  and  sued  for 
the  hand,  of  the  lovely  Deli  Bdb.  But  the  proud  king  of 
the  sea  despised  the  kings  of  the  earth,  and  said  that 
he  never  would  grant  the  daughter  of  the  sea  to  the  son 
of  the  Alps,  until  he  came  with  a  fleet  down  from  his 
mountains,  to  convey  his  bride  by  water  to  his  palace, 
as  her  feet  were  too  delicate  to  be  exposed  to  the  rough 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  275 

Felt  dull,  and  on  a  molehill  sank  to  sleep. 

His  dreams  retrac'd  the  scenes  from  whence  he  came ; 

He  saw  Hush,  he  held  her  in  his  arms, 

stones  of  the  earth.  But  the  heralds,  convinced  of  the 
power  of  their  king,  threw  the  bridal  ring  and  the 
presents  of  gold  and  salt  into  the  sea,  which  from  this 
time  became  rich  in  salt,  and  having  thus  sealed  the 
betrothing,  returned  to  their  prince.  In  despair  about  the 
desire  of  the  king  of  the  sea,  and  ignorant  how  to 
comply  with  his  conditions,  Csorsz  called  on  the  devil, 
and  entreated  his  aid.  The  devil  without  delay  put  two 
buffaloes  to  his  glowing  plough,  and  in  a  single  night 
dug  the  canal  from  Transylvania  to  the  Danube,  and 
from  thence  down  to  the  sea.  Csorsz  speedily  had  a 
fleet  constructed,  and  joyfully  steered  down  to  the 
Adriatic  to  take  his  bride.  Her  princely  father  gave  up 
his  daughter  with  deep  regret ;  however,  he  was  bound  by 
his  word,  as  the  new  diplomacy  was  not  yet  invented,  and 
the  pledges  of  monarchs  were  still,  even  in  those  parts, 
considered  sacred. 

But  the  beautiful  bride  was  sorry  to  leave  her  cool 
palace  of  crystal,  her  innumerable  toys  of  shells  and 
pearls,  and  even  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  who  had 
served  her  with  unbounded  devotion.  She  promised 
not  to  forget  their  home,  and  often  to  visit  her  father 
and  sisters  in  summer,  when  the  hot  sunbeams  might 
prove  too  intense  for  her  on  the  dry  earth.  Csorsz, 
with  festive  songs  and  merry  sounds,  conveyed  his  be- 
loved up  the  cunal.  Deli"  Bab  was  delighted  with  the 
mountains,  woods,  fields,  and  meadows,  which  swiftly 
passed  her ;  she  was  highly  amused  with  the  objects 
wholly  new  to  her  sight. 

But  when  by  chance  she  looked  backwards,  she 
noticed  with  terror  that  behind  the  fleet  the  waters 
dried  up  in  the  canal,  and  that  thus  the  return  to  her 


276  POPULAR    TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

And  lortg'd  to  press  on  her  a  tender  kiss, 

When  a  deep  thunder-peal  disturb'd  his  sleep. 

He  started  up,  and  gaz'd  around  the  plain. 

On  every  side  the  heavy  storm-cloud  lour'd, 

All  fiercely  gathering,  raging  suddenly, 

Lake  the  mishap  which  blasted  Yantsjie's  fate. 

The  world  array'd  itself  in  gloom  of  night, 

The  thunder  peal'p,  the  lightning  flashed  around. 

At  last  the  windows  of  the  clouds  were  op'd, 

Thick  bubbles  gurgl'd  on  the  swelling  pond. 

Our  Yantshe  downward  bent  his  broad-rimmed  hat, 

Turn'd  out  the  leather  of  his  dense-hair'd  skin, 

And  leaning  on  his  long  and  sturdy  staff, 

He  look'd  with  calmness  on  the  hurricane. 

As  unexpected  as  the  tempest  came, 

So  unexpected  did  it  leave  the  skies, 

Borne  swiftly  on  the  wings  of  speedy  winds. 

A  brilliant  rainbow  glitter'd  in  the  east. 

The  shepherd  shook  the  water  from  his  cloak, 

Then  wander'd  restless  on  his  way  again. 

father's  realm  became  impossible.  She  never  could 
feel  at  home  in  the  gold  and  salt  vaults  of  the  Tran- 
sylvanian  mountains ;  the  heavy  masses  of  the  Alps 
depressed  her  soul;  the  wintry  snow  chilled  her  thoughts; 
the  burning  beams  of  the  summer  sun  melted  her  into 
tears.  She  never  laughed,  and  always  dreamt  of  her 
transparent  abode  in  the  sea.  The  love  of  the  princely 
son  of  the  Alps  remained  sterile;  Deli  Bab  was  child- 
less. She  melted  away  with  longing,  and  was  trans- 
formed into  the  Fata  Morgana,  a  dreamy  appearance  of 
the  sea,  which  vanishes  away  as  soon  as  you  approach, 
and  which  in  Hungary  yet  bears  the  name  of  the  fair 
Deli  Bab.  The  remains  of  the  devil's  canal  are  still 
called  Csorsz  arka — the  canal  of  Csorsz. — Memoirs  of  a 
Hungarian  Lady,  vol.  ii.,  p.  225. 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  277 

The  sun  had  sunk,  but  Yantshe,  wandering  still, 
Travers'd  a  wide-spread  forest,  where  the  croak 
Of  a  foul  raven,  feasting  on  a  deer, 
Assail'd  his  ears.     For  neither  did  he  care, 
But  on  he  went :  the  yellow  moonlight  shed 
Its  rays  to  guide  him  through  the  bushy  lane. 


VI. 

Midnight  it  may  have  been,  when  Yantshe  saw 

A  gleaming  ray*:  a  distant  window  shed 

That  light,  far  in  the  thickets  of  the  wood, 

On  seeing  it  he  muttered  half  aloud : 

"  Doubtless  this  gleam  of  light  comes  from  some  inn ; 

Thank  Heav'n,  I  find  a  shelter  for  the  night." 

But  Yantshe  erred,  the  house  was  not  an  inn. 

It  was  the  den  of  twelve  blood-thirsty  rogues ; 

And  all  of  them  were  now  assembled  there. 

Night,  robbers,  axes,  pistols,  'tis  no  joke  ; 

But  ne'er  had  Yantshe's  heart  in  courage  failed, 

He  boldly  enter'd,  and  thus  greeted  them  : 

"  God  grant  a  happy  evening  to  you  all !" 
Roused  by  the  voice,  the  robbers  seized  their  arms, 
And  grasping  Yantshe,  thus  the  Captain  spake : 
"  Who  art  thou,  wretched  man,  that  dar'st  intrude  ? 
Still  hast  thou  parents  ?  hast  thou  yet  a  wife  ? 
Prepare  !  for  never  shall  they  see  thee  more !" 
The  heart  of  Yantshe  did  not  quicker  beat, 
Nor  grew  he  paler  at  the  robber's  threats ; 
But  thus  replied  he,  with  undaunted  soul : 
"  Who  has  another,  to  endear  his  life, 
Is  right  to  shun  this  spot,  and  company ; 
To  me  my  life  is  worthless ;  therefore,  mark ! 
Whoe'er  you  be^  I  meet  you  fearlessly. 
Yet,  if  you  please,  good  master,  spare  my  life, 
And  rest  me  here  this  night :  else  work  your  will — 


X 

278  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Slay  me !  I  fight  not  for  this  wretched  life." 

So  answer'd  he,  and  calmly  looked  around : 

The  robbers  wondered,  and  their  Captain  spake : 

"  I  say  one  thing,  of  it  two  may  come  ;* 

Thou  art  a  gallant  fellow,  brave  and  bold, 

To  be  a  robber  quite  predestinate. 

Thou  spumest  life,  and  death  thou  dost  not  fear ; 

We  kill  thee  not :  I  proffer  thee  my  hand. 

To  rob,  to  murder  is  for  us  a  sport ; 

The  sport  is  richly  paid  by  costly  prey : 

These  barrels  here  are  filled  with  yellow  gold ; 

Decide,  if  thou'lt  accept  our  fellowship  ?" 

Strange     were     the     thoughts    which     shot     through 

Yantshe's  mind, 

And  feigning  joy,  he  promptly  answered :  "  Well, 
I  am  your  comrade :  here,  accept  my  hand. 
This  is  the  happiest  hour  of  all  my  life." 
"  It  shall  be  happier  still,"  pursued  the  Chief; 
"  A  merry  feast  shall  welcome  thee ;  our  wine 
Comes  from  the  Bishop's  cellar :  let  it  flow  !" 
And  flow  it  did,  and  soon  o'erwhelm'd  their  sense. 
Yantshe  alone,  shunning  the  cup  and  wine, 
Though  often  press'd  to  drain  it,  took  short  draughts. 
When  sleep  stole  over  them, — which  Yantshe  long 
Had  waited  for, — while  yet  they  senseless  lay, 
"  Good    night !"    he    said ;     "  none    shall     awake    you 

more, 

If  not  the  doomsday  trumpet :  you  have  here 
Of  hundreds  quench'd  the  lamp  of  life ;  and  now 
I'll  send  you  down  to  an  Eternal  night. 
Now  to  the  treasures  !     All  to  thee,  Hush, 
I  bring  them.     Be  no  more  thy  mother's  slave. 
I  marry  thee,  such  is  the  will  of  Heav'n  ! 

*  A   Hungarian    proverb,   when   we   wish   to   renew  a 
discussion  on  a  matter  already  dropped. 


YAXOSH,    THE   HERO.  279 

Then  in  the  village  will  we  build  a  house, 

And  there  we'll  live  in  happiness  and  love, 

As  Eve  and  Adam  lived  in  Paradise, 

Almighty  God,  what  thoughts  assail  my  mind !  • 

How  should  I  touch  the  cursed  gold  of  rogues  ? 

Blood  perchance  sticks  to  it :  not  such  the  wealth 

Which  fosters  happiness.  9  I'll  touch  it  not ; 

My  conscience  ever  shall  remain  unstained. 

Oh,  sweet  Hush !  bear  yet  thy  woes,  and  trust 

Thine  orphan  life  to  gracious  Heav'n's  decree." 

So  musing,  with  a  candle's  flickering  light, 
Forth  from  the  room  he  stept,  and  fir'd  the  thatch 
At  every  corner :  quick  the  whole  abode 
Was  turn'd  to  one  vast  flame,  with  hundred  tongues 
Mounting  to  Heav'n.     The  azure  sky  grew  black, 
And  paler  in  the  smoke  the  full  moon's  disc. 
When  all  around  shone  this  unwonted  light, 
The  bat  was  scar'd,  the  owlet  started  up, 
The  fluttering  of  their  wide-expanded  wings 
Disturb'd  the  noiseless  leaves  of  slumbering  trees. 
The  purple  dawn  of  the  arising  morn 
Shone  upon  smoking  ruins,  and  the  sun 
Saw  through  the  window-holes  twelve  lifeless  men. 


vn. 

O'er  hill  and  dale  our  Yantshe  wandered  on : 
The  robbers  long  had  he  forgotten,  when 
Arms  broadly  glittering  caught  his  eyes.     Hussars 
Came  on  ;  their  swords  shone  bright  as  lightning's  flash  ; 
Their  horses  danced  and  neighed,  and  proudly  shook 
Their  dark-maned  necks.     When  Yantshe  saw  the  troop, 
His  heart  beat  quick  ;  he  thought,  "  How  gladly  T 
Would  join  their  ranks,  if  they  accepted  me !" 
The  riders  now  came  closely  up  ;  their  chief 
Hallooed :  "  Ho  !  countryman,  take  care,  or  sure 


280  POPULAR   TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

On  thine  own  head  thou  stepp'st,*  crest-fallen  lad ! 
What  is  the  matter  ?  speak!"     Then  Yantshe  said: 
"  I  am  a  wretched  outlaw  in  the  world ; 
Accept  me  in  your  ranks,  and  boldly  then 
I  face  the  sun  !"     The  gallant  chief  replied : 
"  Consider  well,  for  bloodshed,  not  for  sport, 
We  now  proceed :  the  miscreant  Turk  attacked 
The  King  of  France,  and  to  his  aid  we  hasje." 

"  All  the  more  gladly  would  I  go  with  you  ; 
For  I  must  kill,  or  shall  be  kill'd  by  grief. 
Till  now,  'tis  true,  I  dealt  but  with  the  ass  ;f 
But  a  Hungarian,  born  to  ride  the  horse, 
For  us  Hungarian  folk  the  horse  was  made." 

Thus  Yantshe  freely  spoke ;  his  radiant  eye 
Still  more  express'd  the  longing  of  his  heart. 
He  was  enroll'd,  and  gladly  bent  his  eye 
.    Upon  his  tassel'd  jacket ;  proudlier  still 
Up  to  his  flashing  sword.     The  fiery  steed 
Rear'd  upright  when  he  mounted ;  but  with  heart 
Undaunted  Yantshe  sat — like  to  a  rock, 
Which  even  the  mighty  earthquake  leaves  unmoved. 
IJis  comrades  all  admir'd  his  strength  and  skill. 
Whenever  on  their  march  their  rest  they  took: 
The  maidens  wept  when  they  set  off  again. 
But  Yantshe  heeded  not  their  sighs ;  'tis  true 
That' though  through  many  a  land  he  pass'd,  no  maid 
Could  in  his  eyes  compare  with  his  Hush. 


vin. 

The  troop  went  on,  till  they  reach'd  Tartary. 
But  here  great  danger  threaten'd ;  all  around 

*  A  Hungarian  proverb,  to  describe  a  sick-hearted  fellow, 
t  The  ass  is  the  inseparable  companion  of  the  shepherd  : 
it  leads  the  flock. 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  281 

Dog-headed  Tartars  thronged.     Their  king  thus  yelPd. 

"  How  dare  you  come  to  us  ?    Know,  then,  we  are 

Men-eaters,  ready  to  devour  you  all."         ^ 

Though  gallant  was  our  folk,  they  shudder'd,  all 

Surrounded,  as  they  were,  by  countless  hosts. 

But  as  good  fortune  willed  it,  at  this  time 

A  negro-king  was  travelling  in  that  land. 

He  warmly  lauded  the  hussars ;  for  he, 

In  former  days,  had  travers'd  Hungary — 

Had  there  been  cheer'd,  treated  with  fine  Tokay, 

Which  well  his  memory  kept.     He  now  address'd 

His  old  ally,  the  Tartar-king:  "  My  friend, 

Be  lenient  to  the  troop ;  they  harm  thee  not. 

I  know  the  Magyars  well;  good  folk  are  they — 

A  race  of  gentry  born ;  grant  them,  for  me, 

Peace  and  free  passage."    "  Well,  for  thee  (replied 

The  dog-head  king,  appeased),  I  grant  their  life." 

He  sign'd  and  seal'd  a  passport;  through  his  realm, 

The  bold  hussars  then  safely  galloped  off. 

But  glad  were  they  to  get  away :  why  not  ? 

The  land  is  poor,  no  food  but  figs  and  bears! 


rx. 

That  Tartarland,  with  all  its  hills  and  vales, 
They  soon  forgot  in  Italy,  amidst 
The  fragrant  woods  of  rosemary ;  but  much 
They  suffer'd  here  from  cold.     Eternal  frost 
Reigns  in  this  land  :  on  snow  they  marched.     Yet  e'en 
This  hardship,  though  severe,  their  strength  endured. 
But  when  it  grew  too  cold,  hoisting  their  steeds 
Upon  their  backs,  they  carried  them  along. 


They  soon  reach'd  India  on  their  march.     To  France 
They  thus  approach'd  ;  but  tedious  was  the  way. 


282  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

The  hills  rose  always  higher,  till  at  last 

Close  to  the  country's  edge  they  touch'd  the  sky : 

Hence  glowing  heat  oppress'd  the  poor  hussars, 

And  stript  them  quick  of  collars  and  of  furs. 

Why  not  ?  for  near  them,  scarce  a  mile  above, 

The  sun  moved  smoothly  on  his  morning  walk. 

For  food  they  tasted  nothing  but  the  air, 

Which  here  for  thickness  can  be  champ'd ;  for  thirst, 

They  had  to  squeeze  the  water  from  the  clouds. 

At  last  they  reach'd  the  mountain's  top ; — and  there, 

Such  was  the  heat,  they  march'd  but  during  night. 

Their  pace  was  slow,  for  hindrance  great  they  found, 

Their  horses  ever  stumbling  o'er  the  stars. 

And  when  they  wander'd  on  the  Milky  Way 

Our  Yantshe  thought :  "  I've  always  heard  it  said, 

As  often  as  a  star  falls  down  from  heav'n, 

A  human  life  is  closed  upon  the  earth. 

How  fortunate  for  thee,  O  heartless  witch, 

That  'tis  unknown  to  me  which  star  is  thine ! 

No  longer  shouldst  thou  vex  my  sweetest  dove, 

For  down  to  earth  now  would  I  hurl  thy  star." 


XI. 

France  is  a  glorious  land ;  as  Canaan  was 
A  Paradise  on  earth !   it's  beauty  rous'd 
The  greedy  Turks  to  envy,  who  had  now 
With  steed  and  sword  attack'd  and  ravaged  it. 
They  forc'd  the  churches,  robb'd  the  sacred  cups, 
And  emptied  all  the  cellars  of  the  priests ; 
Kindled  the  blaze  of  cities,  spar'd  no  life. 
They  from  his  palace  drove  the  helpless  King 
And  carried  off  by  force  his  only  child. 
Such  was  the  state  of  France,  when  the  hussars 
At  last  arriving  found  its  humbled  lord. 
And  piteously  bewail'd  his  cruel  fate, 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  283 

When  thus  he  spake  :  "  Heroes,  is  it  not  hard 

That  I,  the  King  of  France,  \vhose  riches  vied 

With  those  of  great  Darius,  am  reduced 

To  strive  with  need1?"     The  chief  of  the  hussars 

Replied :  "  Calm,  Majesty,  thy  cares ;  our  arms 

Shall  chastise  all  who  dar'd  maltreat  a  King. 

This  night  we  rest,  for  we  are  tir'd ;  the  way 

Was  long  and  trying;  but  to-morrow  soon 

We  shall  re-occupy  thy  empire  lost." 

"  But  my  poor  daughter,  O  my  dearest  child !" 

Exclaimed  the  King.     "  Shall  I  not  see  her  more  ? 

The  Turkish  Pasha  tore  her  from  my  side  : 

Whoever  brings  her  back  may  claim  her  hand." 

The  heroes  at  these  words  exalted  felt, 

Hope  filled  their  hearts ;  they  one  arfd  all  resolv'd 

To  win  her,  or  to  die.     Our  Yantshe  was 

Perhaps  the  only  one  who  listen'd  not ; 

His  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  they  recall'd  Bush. 


XII 

The  morning  came,  the  sun,  as  daily,  rose ; 
But  what  he  saw  and  heard  when  out  he  peep'd, 
Such  things  he  never  saw  nor  heard  before. 
When  the  clear  trumpet  call'd  the  men  to  arms, 
Its  summons  found  the  soldiers  at  their  post. 
Sharp  had  they  ground  the  edges  of  their  swords. 
The  steeds  were  saddled,  and  the  King  appear'd 
To  head  the  gallant  crew :  then  thoughtful  spake 
The  chief  of  the  hussars :  "  Nay,  gallant  King, 
Thy  life  is  precious,  and  to  wield  the  sword 
Weak  is  thy  arm  ;  thy  years  have  not  impair'd 
Thy  courage,  yet  have  robb'd  thee  of  thy  strength." 

They  gallop'd  off  to  seek  the  Turks,  and  sent 
A  herald  duly  to  announce  the  war. 
The  herald  goes — returns ;  the  trumpet  sounds : 


284  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Then  clashing  swords  and  warriors'  shouts  announce 

The  coming  storm  of  battle :  see  !  the  hussars 

Press  forward  on  their  steeds,  with  thund'ring  cheers. 

Shaken  by  iron  hoofs,  or  struck  with  awe 

At  sounds  ill-boding,  quakes  the  -heart  of  earth. 

The  seven-horse-tail'd  leader  of  the  foe,* 

Red-nosed — a  barrel  riding  on  the  steed — 

Arrayed  his  ranks,  and  hero-like  withstood, 

Sharp  though  it  was,  the  first  hussar  attack. 

They  bore  no  second ;  broken  were  their  ranks, 

And  drown'd  in  Turkish  blood  the  field  turn'd  red. 

The  stout  Pasha  as  yet  remain'd  unhit ; 

But  Yantshe  kept  on  him  a  watchful  eye : 

"  Brother,"  he  hallooed,  when  he  reach'd  him,  "  hark  ! 

Thou  art  too  stout  to  be  one  single  man : 

Stand  still,  that  two  I  may  cut  out  of  thee." 

He  kept  his  promise ;  with  a  mighty  stroke 

He  cut  in  two  the  seven-horse-tail'd  Turk 

Who  fell  on  both  sides  from  his  frighten'd  horse. 

Of  the  ill-fated  chief  such  was  the  death  ! 

The  Turkish  army  saw  its  leader  dead, 

And  took  to  flight,  and  still  perhaps  would  flee 

Had  the  hussars  not  headlong  followed  them, 

And  put  them  on  the  edges  of  their  swords. 

The  Turks  fell  like  the  poppy  on  the  fields, 

But  one  of  them  escaped,  and  had  been  safe 

If  Yantshe  had  not  hastened  after  him. 

It  was  the  Pasha's  son  ;  a  female  shape 

Lay  in  his  arms,  the  daughter  of  the  King. 

Our  Yantshe  galloped  till  he  reached  the  Turk, 

And  cried  :  "  Stop,  coward !  or  thy  wicked  soul 

I'll  send  to  hell !"     The  Pasha's  son  fled  on, 

Until  his  steed  fell  down  and  breathed  its  last, 

*  The  Vizir's  rank  is  marked  by  seven  horse-tails  in  the 
East. 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  285 

"  Pardon,  kind  knight !"  he  cried  ;  "  behold  ray  youth, 
And  pity  me !  my  soft  heart  clings  to  life. 
Spare  but  my  life,  and  take  my  treasures  all." 

"  Keep  all  thy  treasures,  coward — keep  them  all ! 
Thou  art  too  vile  to  perish  by  my  hand. 
Fly  to  thy  country,  and  make  it  known  to  all 
How  the  Hungarians  ever  treat  their  foes." 

Thus  Yantshe    spake,    sprang    from  his   horse,   and 

glanced 

Upon  the  Princess.     She  unclosed  her  eyes, 
And  said,  with  languid  accents :  "  Valiant  knight, — 
Deliverer  mine,  I  ask  not-who  thou  art, 
Thine  is  my  gratitude  :  say,  how  can  I 
Make  good  my  words  ?    My  hand  itself  is  thine, 
If  thou  desir'st  this  prize."     In  Yantshe's  veins 
Was  blood,  not  milk ;  but,  thinking  of  Hush, 
He  quenched  the  struggle  rising  in  his  breast, 
And  gently  thus  addressed  the  Princess  fair  : 

"  Let  us,  my  rose,  return  first  to  thy  sire, 
To  speak  about  it  there."     He  took  the  reins, 
And  led  along  the  steed  which  bore  the  dame. 


xm 

They  reach'd  the  battle-field ;  the  sinking  sun 
Beheld  with  reddened  eyes  a  doleful  sight, 
The  traces  of  grim  death ;  and  o'er  the  slain 
*The  ravens  hovering.     Such  distressing  view 
Filled  him  with  grief;  he  hastened  to  the  sea. 
A  hundred  paces  thence  there  was  a  pond, 
Once  pure,  now  red  with  Turkish  blood.     The*  host 
Had  rested  here  before  they,  with  the  King, 
Went  to  the  palace,  standing  near  the  field. 
The  army  scarce  had  reached  the  castle-gate 
When  came  the  Princess,  Yantshe  at  her  side, — 
A  sparkling  rainbow  with  a  gloomy  cloud. 


286  POPULAR   TALES  OF  HUNGAKY. 

"  My  joy  is  now  complete !"  exclaimed  the  King : 
"  Call  up  the  Cook !  let  him  prepare  the  best 
He  ever  served  for  my  victorious  guests !" 

"  Your  Majesty  needs  not  call  the  cook," 
A  weak  voice  cried,  "  for  here  behold  I  am ! 
The  feast  in  greatest  speed  I  have  serv'd  up 
It  is  quite  ready  in  the  banquet  hall." 
Melodious  seemed  these  words  to  the  hussars, 
Who  soon  around  the  table  were  encamped, 
And,  sharply  as  they  attacked  the  Turks, 
They  now  attacked  the  turkeys  and  the  beef. 
The  tumblers,  too,  were  quickly  pass'd  around. 
The  King  arose,  and  spake  with  lifted  cup : 

"  Great  tidings  I  announce  to  you,  my  sons !" 
The  brave  hussars  attended  with  both  ears, 
That  of  the  royal  words  they  might  lose  none. 
The  king  now  emptied  first  the  cup,  then  coughed, 
Then  broke  the  silence  with  most  solemn  tone  • 

"  Victorious  hero  !  let  me  hear  thy  name, 
Who  hast  restored  thy  happiness,  my  child !" 
"  My  honest  name  is  Yantshe  Kukuricza, 
Though  peasant-like  it  sounds,  it  brings  no  shame." 
The  King  continued :  "  Thee  I  rebaptize ; 
Thy  name  henceforth  shall  be — The  Hero  John ! 
Now  listen,  John  the  Hero,  to  my  words : 
As  thou  hast  brought  my  daughter  back  to  me, 
Take  her  to  wife — she  gla,dly  will  be  thine — 
And  occupy  with  her  my  glorious  throne. 
I  long  have  worn  the  crown :  I  have  grown  old 
With  it,  in  years  and  mind :  it  presses  now 
Too  heavy  on  my  head.     I  abdicate, 
And  place  the  crown  on  thy  victorious  brow. 
For  me,  I  in  the  palace  claim  one  room, 
To  live  in  careless  peace  my  numbered  days." 

The  soldiers  wondered  greatly  at  these  words, 
But  Hero  John  replied,  with  humble  mien : 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  287 

"  I  thank  thee,  gracious  King,  for  thy  good-will : 
Such  royal  bounty  hardly  I  deserve. 
And  I,  too,  must  confess  I  can't  accept 
This  kingly  favour ;  why  is  long  to  tell, 
My  story  might  be  trying  to  thy  patience." 

"  Speak,  dearest  son,  we  gladly  grant  our  ear, 
Replied  the  King ;  and  John  the  Hero  spake : 


XIV. 

"  Where  shall  I  now  begin  ?    First  I  must  tell 
The  name  of  Kukuricza  how  I  got. 
They  found  me  on  the  fields,  amongst  the  maize, 
And  therefore  used  to  call  me  Kukuricza.* 
A  peasant  wife,  the  best  and  kindest  soul 
(The  tale  to  me  she  has  related  oft), 
Went  to  her  field  to  see  her  growing  maize, 
And  found  me  lying  there,  a  helpless  babe. 
I  screamed  with  all  my  lungs,  she  pitied  me, 
And  took  me  up,  and  nurs'd  me  in  her  arms, 
And  walking  home,  she  thought :  '  I  have  no  child, 
I  will  rear  up  this  little  homeless  wretch.' 
Her  husband  was  of  cross  and  angry  mood, 
He  never  liked  my  looks,  but  constantly - 
Rebuk'd  me ;  and  when  first  she  brought  me  home 
His  voice  stream'd  forth  in  accents  of  reproach. 
Entreatingly  she  spoke  to  him  these  words : 

" '  Appease,  O  father,f  your  displeasure :  say, 
How  could  I  leave  the  baby  in  the  field  ? 
And  have  it  starved,  would  Heav'n  not  punish  us  ? 
And  then,  he  will  prove  useful  in  the  house. 

*  Kukuricza,  means  in  Hungarian,  maize. 

f  The  Hungarian  peasant-wife  calls  her  husband  Apus, 
father ;  Uram,  my  master ;  and  Kent,  you ;  while  he  calls 
her  Anyus,  mother ;  and  Te,  thou. 


ZOO  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

You  have  to  keep  your  fields,  your  cattle,  sheep. 

When  once  the  baby  grows  to  be  a  man, 

You  need  no  servant.'     He  at  last  gave  way. 

But  always  scolded  me ;  and  if  my  work 

Chanc'd  not  to  please  the  man,  he  thrash'd  me  well. 

Thus  I  grew  up :  my  lot  was  toil,  and  blows, 

And  scanty  joy ;  my  whole  delight  a  gjrl, 

Who  in  the  village  lived,  next  door  to  us. 

Her  mother  died ;  her  father  thought  it  best 

To  wed  another  wife ;  he  also  died. 

The  child  remain'd  now  with  her  father's  wife. 

This  little  maiden  was  my  only  joy, 

The  only  rose  along  my  thorny  path, — 

And  how  I  did  admire  and  love  the  girl ! 

They  call'd  us  the  two  orphans  of  the  village. 

When  yet  a  little  boy,  not  for  sweet  cakes 

Would  I  her  sight  have  lost;  then,  how  I  clapp'd 

My  hands  when  Sunday  came,  and  I  could  play 

With  her  among  the  children  on  the  green ! 

And  when  I  grew  a  lad,  and  when  my  heart 

Began  to  pulse  and  stir,  when  on  her  lips 

I  press'd  a  burning  kiss,  I  had  not  car'd 

If  heaven  itself  had  fallen  to  bury  us ! 

Her  wicked  mother  often  us'd  her  ill, 

And  would  have  treated  her  still  worse,  had  not 

My  threats  restrain'd  her  malice  and  her  wrath. 

But  soon  my  fate  grew  darker,  more  and  more : 

We  buried  the  good  woman  in  the  earth 

Who  found  and  rear'd  me,  and  who  ever  had 

Mother-like  treated  me,  the  orphan  child. 

My  heart  is  hard :  I  seldom  used  to  weep, 

But  on  my  foster-mother's  grave  my  tears 

Flowed  like  a  stream.     Ilushka  wept  with  me. 

How  should  she  not  ]     My  foster-mother,  too, 

Had  ever  soothed  the  helpless  orphan  girl. 

She  often  said  to  us :  '  Wait  but  awhile, 


YANOSH,  THE   HERO.  289 

And  then  in  marriage  I  unite  you  soon ; 

And  what  a  pair,  my  darlings,  will  you  be ! 

I  will  unite  you  sure — wait  but  awhile.' 

We  waited  on  with  sorrow,  and  she  would— 

I  trust — have  kept  her  promise,  had  she  not 

Descended  early  to  her  silent  grave. 

She  died ;  our  cherish'd  hopes  declin'd,  we  lovM 

Each  other  as  before,  but  hopelessly. 

Yet  even  this  tearful  bliss  was  not  to  last, 

It  happen'd  that  I  lost  half  of  my  flock, 

On  which  my  master  drove  me  from  his  house. 

I  said  farewell  to  my  belov'd  Hush, 

And  wander'd  through  the  world,  with  bitter  pangs, 

Till  I  became  a  soldier.     When  I  parted, 

I  did  not  say  to  my  beloved  maid 

She  should  not  give  to  another  man  her  heart, 

Nor  did  she  claim  of  me  eternal  love ; 

Yet  (well  we  know)  we  both  hold  fast  our  faith. 

"  Therefore,  sweet  Princess,  think  no  more  of  me : 
For  if  the  dear  Hush  cannot  be  mine, 
I  will  possess  no  other  in  the  world, 
Should  death  himself  forget  me  here  below." 


xv. 

The  hero  Yanosh  left  no  heart  unmoved, 
The  Princess  wept  with  pity  and  with  grief, 
The  King  thus  spake :  "  My  son,  thy  choice  is  free, 
But  what  I  offer  now  in  gratitude, 
Accept  it  for  my  sake."     He  then  unlock'd 
The  treasury,  bade  a  bag  be  fill'd  with  gold — 
Yanosh  had  never  before  beheld  such  wealth. 

"  Now,  Hero  John,  deliverer  of  my  child," 
Thus  said  his  Majesty,  "  All  this  is  thine. 
Take  home  the  gold,  enjoy  it  with  Hush 
I  fain  would  say,  remain  a  time  with  us, 
13 


290  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

But  well  I  know  thou  long'st  to  see  thy  dove ; 

Go,  then !  thy  comrades  will  remain,  and  spend 

At  court  a  pleasant  life."     As  said,  'twas  done : 

Our  faithful  hero  long'd  for  his  Hush. 

He  bowed,  said  to  the  Princess :  "  Fare  thee  well  1" 

And  to  the  port  he  went,  where  lay  a  ship. 

His  Majesty  accompanied  him  there. 

The  soldiers  folio w'd  with  loud  cheers,  and  look'd 

Long  after  him,  until  the  distance  threw 

A  veil  of  mist  around  the  sailing  ship. 


XVI. 

The  vessel  saiPd  with  favourable  wind, 

Still  quicker  flew  the  thoughts  of  John :  free  space 

They  had,  and  sweet  Hush  they  thus  address'd : 

"Know'st    thou    that   thy   belov'd    steers   homeward 

now, 

Laden  with  gold  ? — that  after  many  toils 
United  we  may  live  a  happy  pair, 
Within  our  own  precinct,  with  means  our  own  ? 
My  master  used  me  ill,  but  sure  his  wrongs 
I  gladly  pardon,  as  in  truth,  he  caus'd 
My  luck."     Thus  reason'd  in  his  heart  our  John, 
Whilst  on  the  vessel  steer'd,  with  swelling  sails. 
Still  she  was  distant  yet  from  Hungary, 
When  Hero  John  one  eve  stood  on  the  deck, 
And  loud  the  mate  remark'd :  "  Red  is  the  sky ; 
A  heavy  tempest  threatens  us."     But  John 
Attended  not  these  words ;  he  saw  a  host 
Of  red-legg'd  storks  above  him  in  the  clouds ; 
The  autumn  was  at  hand.     Perhaps  those  birds 
Came  from  his  home.     His  glance  pursued  their  flight 
With  tender  lodging  :  from  afar,  perhaps, 
They  brought  some  gentle  message  from  Hush, 
And  from  the  home  he  had  not  seen  so  long. 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  291 


XVII. 

Next  day  the  storm  arose,  and  fiercely  blew, 
And  roaring  roll'd  the  agitated  sea, 
Flogg'd  wildly  by  the  howling  hurricane. 
The  crew  were  terrified,  for  now  there  seem'd 
No  hope  of  rescue :  all  their  struggles  fail'd. 
The  clouds  grew  dark — the  sun  had  disappeared — 
A  violent  tempest  raged — the  thunder  roll'd — 
The  lightning  struck  the  ship,  and  shatter'd  her — 
Next  instant  nought  but  planks  swam  all  about, 
And  swelling  billows  wash'd  away  the  crew. 

But  what  became  now  of  the  Hero  John  1 
Did  heartless  billows  bear  him,  too,  away  ? 
Doubtless  next  door  to  death  they  carried  him, 
But  he  was  safe.     The  waters  toss'd  him  up 
With  such  tremendous  force,  that  of  a  cloud 
He  caught  the  fringe,  and  grasp'd  it  with  his  hands, 
And  clung  to  it :  thus  he  was  dragg'd  along 
Until  the  cloud  attain'd  a  cliff,  where  John 
Sank  down  upon  his  knees  in  grateful  prayer. 
He  look'd  around  the  rock,  but  only  saw 
A  griffin's  nest.     The  bird  just  then  her  young 
Was  feeding  here,  when,  creeping  to  the  nest, 
The  Hero  John  with  one  leap  vaulted  on 
The  griffin's  back,  and  boldly  spurred  her  flanks. 
She,  frighten'd,  flew  away  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
Down  had  she  thrown  him,  but  he  sat  too  firm. 
On — on  she  flew,  until  the  morning's  rays 
Shone  downright  on  a  village-steeple's  top. 
It  was  well  known  to  John :  he  greets  his  home : 
Warm  tears  of  joy  are  sparkling  in  his  eyes. 
The  bird,  all  breathless,  perches  on  a  hill, 
And  John  springs  down,  and  hastens  on,  and  thinks :    - 

"  I  bring  no  gold,  I  bring  no  riches  back, 
But  1  return  unchang'd  in  heart  and  mind — • 


292  POPULAB   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Thou  claim'st  not  more.     I  know,  my  sweet  Hush, 
Thou  long  enough  hast  yearn'd  for  my  return." 
Whilst  thus  he  thought,  he  reach'd  the  village  end, 
And  met  some  rattling  carts,  with  empty  casks, 
As  to  the  village  home  the  peasants  went. 
They  little  heeded  him ;  they  knew  him  not 
Who  to  the  village  bent  his  steps.     He  sought 
The  humble  house  where  liv'd  his  fair  Hush. 
His  hand  lay  trembling  on  the  latch — his  breath 
Was  almost  stopt — he  gently  op'd  the  door. 
But  not  Hush — no,  strangers  met  his  eye ! 

"  Perhaps,"    he    thought,    "  I    may    have    miss'd    my 

way," 

And  touch'd  the  latch  again.     "  Whom  do  you  want  1" 
A  pretty  woman  ask'd.     John  said :  "  Hush." 
"  'Tis  Yantshe  !     Goodness  me  !     I  eat  your  heart  !* 
How  sunburnt !     Sure  I  reeognis'd  you  not !" 
The  pretty  woman  said,  with  great  surprise. 
"  Come  in,  and  may  Heav'n  bless  you  thousand-fold ! 
In-doors  let  us  talk  more  of  by-gone  times, 
And  on  she  led  him  to  the  room,  and  placed 
Him  in  the  arm-chair,  saying :  Look  at  me, 
Do  you  remember  me  1  you  know  me  not  1 
The  little  girl,  who  from  the  neighbour-house 
So  often  used  to  come  to  your  Hush. 

"  But  tell  me  quick,  where  is  my  dearest  maid  1" 
Yantshe  inquired.     The  woman's  eyes  were  dimm'd, 
"  Where  is  Ilushka  ?  where  T  she  said,  and  wept ; 
"  Poor  Yantshe,  yes,  Hush  lies  in  the  earth." 
Had  not  the  arm-chair  then  supported  John 
Down  had  he  sunk ;  he  knew  not  what  to  do, 
He  grasp'd  his  breast,  as  if  to  tear  from  it 
The  pungent  grief;  he  sat  there  dumb  and  cold 

*  "I   eat   your   heart,"   is  a   Hungarian    expression   of 
kindness  with  the  peasants. 


YANOSH,    THE  HERO.  293 

Awhile ;  then  as  if  waking  up  from  sleep 

He  said :  "  Speak  truth — she  married — did  she  not  ? 

Far  better  married  than  beneath  the  earth  ! 

Let  me  but  see  her  once,  then  sweet  to  me 

Shall  prove  this  sadden'd  joy."     The  woman's  face 

Show'd  visibly  to  John,  she  spoke  the  truth. 


XVIII. 

Upon  the  table's  edge  poor  John  had  sunk ; 
His  tears  began  to  flow ;  his  accents  fail'd 
With  grief,  in  broken  voice  he  feebly  said, 
Why  have  I  not  been  slain  then  by  the  Turks  ? 
Or  why  not  perish'd  in  the  raving  storm  ? 
Why  was  I  born  ?  why  must  I  live  ?  such  grief 
To  be  my  lot — such  dreadful  day  to  see  !" 
But  grief  at  last  grew  tir'd  to  torture  him ; 
It  was  as  if  worn  out,  and  fell  to  sleep. 

"  How  died  my  love  ?"  he  asked.     The  woman  said : 
"  Poor  creature !     Many  were  her  pains,  but  most 
Her  mother's  treatment  broke  the  darling's  strength. 
The  witch  is  punished,  and  she  begs  her  bread. 
Dear  girl !     She  always  spoke  of  you,  poor  friend ! 
With  her  last  breath  she  pray'd :  '  May  Heav'n  bless  thee, 
My  Yantshe !     Thine  I  am  beyond  the  grave ; 
Thine  in  the  better  world,  if  yet  thou  wilt.' 
And  then  she  died :  she  rests  not  far  from  hence. 
The  villagers  accompanied  her  bier, 
And  all  shed  tears  who  bore  her  to  the  grave." 

The  good  young  woman  led  the  hero  there 
At  his  request,  and  left  him  to  himself. 
He  sank  exhausted  down  upon  the  grave. 
His  hapless  thoughts  recalPd  the  good  old  time, 
When  in  full  health  her  face  and  heart  yet  glowed ! 
And  now,  they  both  lay  cold  within  the  grave. 
The  radiant  sun  went  down :  pale  rose  the  moon ; 


294:           POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Its  rays  shone  mournful  through  the  autumn  mist. 

John  stagger'd  from  the  grave  of  his  belov'd, 

But  soon  retura'd  anew ;  a  little  bush 

Of  roses  grew  upon  the  tomb  ;  he  pluck'd 

One  bud,  and  thought :  "  Her  dust  has  given  thee  birth, 

Poor  rosy  bud ;  thou  shalt  remain  with  me. 

I'll  wander  to  the  limits  of  the  world, 

Till  welcome  death  arrive  to  close  my  life." 


XIX. 

Yantshe  had  two  companions  on  his  way  : 

One  was  the  grief  that  gnawed  his  heart ;  his  sword 

The  other,  rusting  yet  from  Turkish  blood. 

On  pathless  ways  he  stray'd  r  the  moon  had  chang'd, 

And  disappear'd,  and  often  chang'd  again : 

The  earth  adorn'd  itself  with  flow'rs  of  spring, 

When  John  address'd  the  grief  that  press'd  his  heart : 

"  Insatiable  grief !  when  wilt  thou  be 

Weary  of  torturing  this  hopeless  heart  ? 

Canst  thou  not  kill  me  ?     Get  thee  hence — begone, 

And  seek  another  lurking-place.     I  see 

Thou  bring'st  not  death  to  me  ;  in  other  parts 

I  see  it  now.     Adversity,  to  you 

I  turn,  perchance  you  grant  me  welcome  death." 

Thus  thought  our  John,  and  drove  away  the  grief, 
That  to  his  heart  but  seldom  now  retura'd, 
And  fled  again, — the  heart  was  tightly  closed, — 
And  grief  left  but  a  tear  on  Yantshe's  eye. 

Weeks,  months  had  pass'd,  the  tear  had  also  dried ; 
John  carried  on  his  wearied,  wandering  life, 
And  reached  a  wood,  where,  deep  immers'd  in  mud, 
Up  to  the  axletree,  he  found  a  cart. 
The  carter  whipp'd  his  horse,  but  all  in  vain. 
"  Good  morning,  friend,"  said  John.     "  A  pretty  morn, 
Indeed,"  the  carter  grumbled.    "  Why  so  cross  T 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  295 

Our  John  pursued.     "  Why !  see  the  swampy  road 

Glues  'to  the  earth  my  cart,  and  stops  the  horse." 

"  I  will  assist  thee,  friend;  but  let  me  know 

Whither  leads  yonder  path  ?"     And  to  the  right 

He  pointed,  where  a  road  led  through  the  woods. 

"  Beware  that  path !     Who  ventures  there  meets  death ; 

The  giant's  realm  extends  around,  beware !" 

John  took  the  pole,  and  strongly  seiz'd  the  cart^ 

And  drew  it  from  the  mud ;  and  ere  the  man 

Could  tell  his  thanks,  the  hero  disappeared. 

He  hasten'd  to  the  woods,  and  soon  a  stream 

He  found — the  border  of  the  Giant-land. 

The  keeper  of  the  giants  stood  on  watch. 

"  Is  it  a  man  who  yonder  creeps  1"  he  said. 
"  I'll  crush  him  like  a  worm  ;"  but  Hero  John 
Urisheath'd  his  sword,  and  struck  the  giant's  foot, 
Who  stumbling  fell  across  the  stream,  and  forra'd 
With  his  enormous  frame  a  lofty  bridge. 
Before  he  could  rise  up  again,  our  John 
Across  him  ran,  and  cut  his  head  right  off. 
And  thus  he  did  arrive  in  Giant-land ; 
But  here,  what  greeted  him  ?  mishap  or  luck  ? 
You  soon  will  learn,  if  you  attend  my  words ! 


xx. 

The  hero  stopp'd,  and  glanced  astonish'd  round : 
The  trees  were  high,  m  vain  he  sought  their  tops ; 
The  leaves  were  huge  enough  to  be  abodes. 
Upon  a  branch  a  magpie  sat ;  it  seemed 
A  wide-expanded  cloud ;  proceeding  fast 
John  reach'd  a  castle  dark  and  high.     It  was 
The  palace  of  the  King,  with  gates  so  large, 
So  large — so  large — I  cannot  say  how  large : 
The  giants  surely  build  no  mean  abode. 
John  enter'd  boldly,  reach'd  the  hall,  and  found 


298  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

The  King  at  dinner  with  his  fifty  sons. 

They  relish'd  rocks,  the  meal  seem'd  strange  to  John, 

When,  grinning,  said  the  King :  "  Come,  feast  with  us, 

If  not,  we  swallow  thee,"  and  with  these  words, 

He  handed  dowrn  a  rock,  the  Princes  all 

Roar'd  loud  with  laughter.     Hero  John  took  up 

The  rock,  and  flung  it  at  the  royal  head, 

And  crush'd  the  giant's  brow,  exclaiming  loud : 

"  Digest  thyself  the  meal  thou  send'st  to  me." 

The  King  fell  dead ;  the  eldest  Prince  afraid, 
Addressed  the  hero  :  "  Spare,  O  Lord !  our  lives ; 
We  humbly,  as  thy  vassals,  bow  to  thee."  -. 
"  Be  thou  our  King,"  exclaimed  the  giants  all. 
And  John  replied :  "  I  listen  to  your  prayers, 
But  here  with  you  I  cannot  rest :  a  King 
Must  in  my  stead  rule  over  the  Giantrland. 
Be  it  whom  you  elect,  I  only  claim 
That,  when  I  summon,  you  appear."    The  Prince 
Drew  forth  a  whistle,  saying :  "  Gracious  Lord, 
Take  this,  and  when  thou  call'st,  thy  vassals  come." 
John  took  the  gift,  and  proud  of  his  success, 
He  walk'd  away  amidst  a  thousand  cheers. 


XXI. 

I  cannot  say,  how  long  he  wandcr'd  on, 

But  sure  it  is,  that,  as  he  went  along, 

It  always  darker  grew,  so  dark  at  last, 

That  all  was  plung'd  in  darkness.     "  Night  has  come, 

Or  blinded  is  mine  eye,"  he  thought ;  but  no, 

It  was  not  night ;  no  blindness  dimmed  his  eye; 

It  was  the  land  of  darkness  where  he  was. 

No  sun  shone  here — no  star;  he  groping  sought 

His  path,  and  heard  a  fluttering  o'er  his  head — 

The  witches  flying  through  the  air  on  brooms — 

They  flew  to  reach  a  spacious  cavern,  where 


f 


THE   HEKO.  297 


They  every  night  all  met  in  parliament. 

John's  eye  was  caught  by  shining  rays  ;  he  now 

Peep'd  through  the  chinks,  from  whence  shone  forth  the 

light, 

And  saw  below  a  kettle's  flaming  fire, 
And  witches  sitting  all  around,  who  brew'd 
An  opiate  for  the  people  ;  at  this  sight 
He  grop'd  to  find  his  whistle,  but  his  hand 
Felt  on  the  wall  the  broom-sticks  of  the  hags. 
He  seiz'd  and  hid  them  quick,  then  drew  his  whistle, 
And  sounded  it  —  the  giants  came  —  John  bade 
Them  slay  the  hags  ;  the  witches  terrified 
Left  their  debate,  and-  leaped  about  to  find 
Their  wonted  steeds,  in  vain.     No  chance  was  left, 
No  flight  could  save  them  from  the  giants'  grasp. 
And  when  a  witch  was  killed,  it  grew  less  dark, 
Till  by  degrees  the  sky  clear'd  up,  and  light 
Began  to  spread  o'er  all  the  smiling  land. 
But  still  it  was  not  sunny  yet  ;  one  witch 
Remain'd  conceal'd  behind  a  tree,  but  she 
Was  there  too  seen  ;  one  giant  caught  her  tight. 
"  Step-mother  of  Hush  !"  John  cried,  "  worse  hag  ! 
My  hand  shall  punish  thee  !     Stop,  giant  —  stop  • 
I  must  myself  revenge  my  dove  !"     The  witch 
Began  to,  flee  ;  the  giant  caught  her  soon, 
And  flung  her  through  the  air.     They  found  her  dead 
In  Yantshe's  native  village  on  the  turf, 
And  no  one  mourned  the  wicked  woman's  fate, 
John  burnt  the  broom-sticks  all  —  in  brilliant  light 
Shone  now  the  land  of  darkness.     Graciously 
He  then  dismiss'd  the  giants  ;  off  they  march'd 
All  to  the  left,  the  hero  to  the  right. 


13* 


298  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 


xxn. 

John  wander'd  on  and  on ;  his  heart  was  heaPd, 
And  when  he  look'd  upon  the  rose,  it  was 
Not  woe  he  felt ;  with  pensive  joy  his  eye 
Repos'd  upon  the  bud,  which  once  he  pluck'd  ' 
On  his  belov'd  Ilushka's  lonely  grave. 

The  sun  had  sunk ;  the  rosy  twilight  too 
Had  wan'd :  when  silver  rays  the  moonlight  shed, 
The  hero  wander'd  yet  until  the  moon 
Sank  too,  and  darkness  came.     He  stopt  at  last, 
And  on  a  hillock  leant  his  weary  head. 
He  fell  asleep,  and  knew  not  that  he  lay 
Upon  a  churchyard,  where  the  ancient  tombs 
Were  long  decayed.     And  when  the  chilly  hour 
Of  midnight  came,  all  tomb-hills  burst,  and  ghosts 
Arose  in  snowy  garments,  and  began 
To  sing  and  dance  upon  the  trembling  soil, 
But  Hero  John  awoke  not  from  his  dreams ; 
He  heard  no  dance,  no  tunes ;  the  ghosts  around 
Approach'd,  and  grasp'd  his  arm,  to  tear  him  up. 
When  loud  the  cock  began  to  crow,  the  ghost 
Vanish'd  like  shadow ;  John  awoke  ;  his  limbs 
Were  touch'd  by  chilly  frost ;  a  piercing  wind 
Blew  o'er  the  dale,  and  Hero  John  went  on. 

xxm. 

He  reach'd  a  mountain's  top,  when  all  around 
The  twilight  cast  its  glance.     The  morning  star 
Sank  down,  its  parting  rays  waned  soon  away, 
Fast  as  a  sigh.     When  rose  the  radiant  sun, 
He  smiling  look'd  upon  the  endless  sea, 
The  even  waves  that  seem'd  to  lie  asleep 
In  open  space  immeasurably  spread. 
The  surface  was  a  mirror,  scarcely  broke 
By  splashing  fishes  here  and  there,  and  when 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  299 

The  rays  fell  on  their  scales,  they  glistened  bright 

As  shining  diamonds.    On  the  shore  there  stood, 

A  fisher's  hut ;  the  fisherman  was  old ; 

His  beard  flow'd  to  his  knees ;  he  spread  his  net 

When  John  approach'd  and  ask'd  ;  "Old  brother,  wilt 

Thou  kindly  carry  me  across  the  sea  ? 

I  readily  would  offer  thee  the  fare, 

But  have  no  com ;  serve  me  for  nought ;  I'll  pay 

Thee  with  my  warmest  thanks."    "  If  coin  thou  hadst," 

Replied,  with  smiling  mien,  the  fisherman, 

"  To  me  'twere  useless.     See ;  the  ocean's  depth 

Supplies  my  scanty  wants  day  after  day. 

But  say,  why  seek'st  thou  here  a  passage  ?  know 

The  endless  ocean  spreads  its  waves  around, 

No  boat,  no  ship  can  carry  thee  across." 

"  The  endless  ocean  /"  cried  our  John  surprised ; 

"  I  traverse  it  where'er  it  leads."     He  drew 

His  whistle — sounded  it — a  giant  came. 

"  Canst  carry  me  across  this  sea  ?"    "  Why  not  ? 

Sit  on  my  back,  and  tightly  catch  my  hair." 

They  went ;  the  giant  paced  with  hurried  steps, 

Each  step  seven  miles,  but  on  they  walked  for  weeks 

Ere  in  the  distant  mist  they  saw  a  land. 

"  Is  this  the  shore  T  exelaim'd  the  Hero  John. 

"  'Tis  but  an  isle,"  the  giant  quick  replied. 

"  The  Fairy-land,  the  end  of  the  wide  world.  • 

Beyond  this  isle  the  ocean  disappears 

In  spaceless  void."     "  Then  take  me  quickly  hence, 

My  faithful  bondsman,  for  the  Fairy-land 

Behold  I  must."     "  King,  I  obey,  but  know 

Thy  life  is  threatened  there.     Rapacious  beasts 

Keep  all  the  gates."     "  Care  not  for  these,  but  take 

Me  to  the  isle  ;  whether  I  enter  there 

Or  die,  is  my  concern  alone."     On  went 

The  giant,  left  the  hero  safe  on  shore, 

Whilst  he  himself  retraced  his  speedy  steps. 


800  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 


The  entrance  of  the  fairy  isle  was  kept 

By  three- black  bears ;  with  murderous  claws  they  met 

The  Hero  Yantshe,  but  on  his  attack, 

They  fell  by  his  victorious  hand.     "  To-day 

My  task  is  done,"  the  hero  gladly  thought, 

And  stretch'd  him  at  full  length  close  to  the  gate ; 

And  on  the  following  day  he  sought  and  found 

The  second  entrance ;  there  three  lions  stood. 

Then  a  stout  fight  began,  but  John  subdued 

The  lions,  too.     He  proudly  onwards  bent 

His  steps,  and  at  the  inmost  gate  he  saw 

A  dreadful  dragon  coil'd  into  a  skain ; 

The  monster  rose,  and  op'd  its  giant-jaws. 

The  hero  saw  his  arm  could  not  avail, 

And  therefore  leaping  in  the  dragon's  mouth 

Sought    quick   its   heart,   and   pierc'd    it   through   and 

through. 

Out  of  the  serpent's  gulfy  throat  his  path 
Then  cut  he  with  his  sword,  and  thus  by  feata 
Unequall'd  came  into  the  Fairy-land. 


xxv. 

gNo  winter  reigns  within  the  Fairy-land ; 
Eternal  May  spreads  here  its  dewy  rays. 
No  sunrise  glows,  no  sunset  brightly  flames, 
But  rosy  morning  twilight  ever  shines ; 
And  fairy  maids,  and  fairy  boys,  live  here 
In  everlasting  joy ;  no  death  they  know ; 
They  need  no  food,  no  drink,  the  kiss  of  love 
Life,  strength,  and  glee  to  them  imparts.     No  grief 
Comes  near  these  shores,  but  joy  sometimes  bedews 
The  fairies'  eyes  with  tears,  and  when  they  fall 
Down  to  the  earth,  men  call  them  diamonds. 


YANOSH,    THE   HERO.  301 

Often  in  childish  sport  the  fairy  maids 
Draw  through  the  earth  some  of  their  golden  hairs ; 
This  is  the  ore,  coveted  here  below ; 
And  with  the  eye-beams  of  the  fairy  maids 
The  fairy  children  play,  and  rainbows  wave 
To  ornament  the  lofty  dome  of  heaven. 
White  lilies  are  the  fairies'  beds ;  on  these 
They  rest  from  joyful  glee,  and  slumbering  smile 
Luli'd  by  the  evening  breath  to  sweet  repose. 
But  in  their  dreams  they  see  a  world  so  bright 
That  e'en  the  fairy  isle  is  but  its  shade- 
When  here  below  the  first  fond  kiss  of  love 
The  lover  presses  on  his  maiden's  lips, 
This  blessed  world's  delight  thrills  through  his  heart 


XXVI. 

When  John  beheld  the  Fairy-land,  his  sight 

Was  dazzled  by  the  rosy  hue  around. 

Scarce  did  he  lift  his  eyes ;  the  fairies  shunn'd 

Not  his  approach,  but  kindly  greeted  him, 

And  led  him  farther  on  ;  and  when  he  saw 

The  isle,  he  seem'd  awaking  from  a  dream. 

Despair  now  seized  upon  his  heart ;  he  thought 

Of  his  Hush.     "  Here,  in  the  realm  of  love, 

Here  I  am  doomed  to  wander  on,  alone !  , 

Where'er  I  glance,  delight  surrounds  my  view, 

Delight  lies  everywhere,  save  in  this  heart." 

He  sought  the  lake,  that  shone  amidst  the  land ; 

He  took  the  bud  pluck'd  on  Ilushka's  tomb 

And  spake :  "  Mine  only  wealth,  who  ow'st  thy  birth 

To  sacred  dust,  go  hence,  I  follow  thee !" 

He  threw  the  rose  into  the  lake ;  the  flower 

But  touch'd  the  silver  waves,  when  it  became 

Hush.     Bewildered  John  now  flings  himself 

Into  the  lake,  and  lifts  from  it  his  bride. 


802  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Here  were  the  waves  of  life,  which  wake  anew 
Whate'er  they  touch.     When  they  bedew'd  the  rose, 
Sprung  from  the  maiden's  dust,  she  lived  again. 
Great  wonders  I  can  tell,  but  not  the  joy 
The  hero  felt,  when  he  embraced  his  bride 
How  beautiful  she  was !  his  fair  Hush ! 
The  fairy  maids  admired  her  all,  and  soon 
Elected  her  their  Queen,  the  fairy  boys 
Proclaim'd  the  hero  King ;  and  in  this  isle, 
With  his  Hush,- up  to  this  day,  John  lives 
The  happy  ruler  of  the  Fairy-land. 


THE  HUNGAKIAN  OUTLAWS. 

THE  robber  is  a  personage  who  appears  in 
almost  every  Hungarian  tale,  and  in  every  diary 
of  the  tourists  who  have  wandered  over  the 
extensive  plain  of  the  Theiss ;  not  that  they 
have  met  the  robber,  but  they  certainly  have 
heard  of  him.  The  innkeeper  has  always  a 
story  of  highwaymen  in  readiness,  to  frighten 
the  stranger  who  arrives  towards  evening,  in 
order  to  retain  him  over  night. 

The  Hungarian  robber  is,  however,  decidedly 
different  from  the  Italian  banditti,  from  the 
"  Klepht"  in  the  Turko-Greek  mountains,  or 
from  the  Spanish  "  contrabandista."  The 
Hungarian  robbers  are  in.  general  inoffensive. 


294:          POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

Its  rays  shone  mournful  through  the  autumn  mist. 

John  stagger'd  from  the  grave  of  his  belov'd, 

But  soon  return'd  anew ;  a  .little  bush 

Of  roses  grew  upon  the  tomb  ;  he  pluck'd 

One  bud,  and  thought :  "  Her  dust  has  given  thee  birth, 

Poor  rosy  bud ;  thou  shalt  remain  with  me. 

I'll  wander  to  the  limits  of  the  world, 

Till  welcome  death  arrive  to  close  my  life." 


XIX. 

Yantshe  had  two  companions  on  his  way : 

One  was  the  grief  that  gnawed  his  heart ;  his  sword 

The  other,  rusting  yet  from  Turkish  blood. 

On  pathless  ways  he  stray'd :  the  moon  had  chang'd, 

And  disappear'd,  and  often  chang'd  again : 

The  earth  adorn'd  itself  with  flow'rs  of  spring, 

When  John  address'd  the  grief  that  press'd  his  heart : 

"  Insatiable  grief !  when  wilt  thou  be 

Weary  of  torturing  this  hopeless  heart  ? 

Canst  thou  not  kill  me  ?     Get  thee  hence — begone, 

And  seek  another  lurking-place.     I  see 

Thou  bring'st  not  death  to  me ;  in  other  parts 

I  see  it  now.     Adversity,  to  you 

I  turn,  perchance  you  grant  me  welcome  death." 

Thus  thought  our  John,  and  drove  away  the  grief, 
That  to  his  heart  but  seldom  now  return'd, 
And  fled  again, — the  heart  was  tightly  closed, — 
And  grief  left  but  a  tear  on  Yantshe's  eye. 

Weeks,  months  had  pass'd,  the  tear  had  also  dried ; 
John  carried  on  his  wearied,  wandering  life, 
And  rcach'd  a  wood,  where,  deep  immers'd  in  mud, 
Up  to  the  axletree,  he  found  a  cart. 
The  carter  whipp'd  his  horse,  but  all  in  vain. 
"  Good  morning,  friend,"  said  John.     "  A  pretty  morn, 
Indeed,"  the  carter  grumbled.    "  Why  so  cross  ?" 


YANOSH,   THE   HERO.  295 

Our  John  pursued.     "  Why !  see  the  swampy  road 

Glues  "to  the  earth  my  cart,  and  stops  the  horse." 

"  I  will  assist  thee,  friend ;  but  let  me  know 

Whither  leads  yonder  path  ?"     And  to  the  right 

He  pointed,  where  a  road  led  through  the  woods. 

"  Beware  that  path !     Who  ventures  there  meets  death ; 

The  giant's  realm  extends  around,  beware !" 

John  took  the  pole,  and  strongly  seiz'd  the  cart, 

And  drew  it  from  the  mud ;  and  ere  the  man 

Could  tell  his  thanks,  the  hero  disappeared. 

He  hasten'd  to  the  woods,  and  soon  a  stream 

He  found — the  border  of  the  Giant-land. 

The  keeper  of  the  giants  stood  on  watch. 

"  Is  it  a  man  who  yonder  creeps  ?"  he  said. 
"  I'll  crush  him  like  a  worm  ;"  but  Hero  John 
Urisheath'd  his  swrord,  and  struck  the  giant's  foot, 
Who  stumbling  fell  across  the  stream,  and  forra'd 
With  his  enormous  frame  a  lofty  bridge. 
Before  he  could  rise  up  again,  our  John 
Across  him  ran,  and  cut  his  head  right  off. 
And  thus  he  did  arrive  in  Giant-land ; 
But  here,  what  greeted  him  ?  mishap  or  luck  1 
You  soon  will  learn,  if  you  attend  my  words ! 


xx. 

The  hero  stopp'd,  and  glanced  astonish'd  round : 
The  trees  were  high,  in  vain  he  sought  their  tops  ; 
The  leaves  were  huge  enough  to  be  abodes. 
Upon  a  branch  a  magpie  sat ;  it  seemed 
A  wide-expanded  cloud ;  proceeding  fast 
John  reach'd  a  castle  dark  and  high.     It  was 
The  palace  of  the  King,  with  gates  so  large, 
So  large — so  large — I  cannot  say  how  large : 
The  giants  surely  build  no  mean  abode. 
John  enter'd  boldly,  reach'd  the  hall,  and  found 


306  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

With  the  swarthy  Slovaks  of  the  South  (the 
northern  ones  and  a  great  part  of  the  Croats  are 
fair),  who  call  themselves  Serbs,  robbery  and 
murder  are  by  no  means  rare*  The  Wallack  is 
still  more  treacherous  and  cunning;  assassina- 
tion and  violent  revenge  similar  to  the  Corsican 
Yendetta,  are  usual  with  him. 

The  Jew  seldom  steals,  but  often  cheats  and 
harbours  the  thieves  and  their  stolen  goods, 
which  he  can  do  the  more  easily,  as  he  is 
very  commonly  an  innkeeper  and  publican,  or 
wanders  as  pedlar  over  the  country,  and  thus 
has  the  best  opportunities  of  selling  the  stolen 
wares.  Yet  the  most  subtle  of  all  thieves  is  the 
gipsy.  His  nimble  limbs  facilitate  his  getting 
by  stealth  into  the  houses;  he  moreover  has 
not  distinctly  received  the  European  notions  of 
property ;  he  is  a  practical  communist  ;  his 
principle  has  been  for  centuries — "  La  propriete 
c'est  le  vol." 

The  Hungarian  occupies  in  criminal  statistics 
the  place  between  the  fair  and  the  brown 
Slovak.  His  -most  common  crimes  are  horse 
and  cattle  stealing,  manslaughter  at  a  fray  in 
the  tavern,  and  arson ;  burglary,  highway -rob- 
bery and  murder  are  exceptional  cases  with  him* 


THE   OUTLAWS.  307 

"With  respect  to  arson  the  Hungarian  law  is  most 
severe;  this  crime  is  punished  with  death.  In 
ancient  times  it  was  even  allowed  to  throw  an 
incendiary — surprised  in  the  deed — into  the 
fire,  and  in  the  present  day  even  a  threat  of 
arson  is  punished  with  heavy  imprisonment. 

The  horse  and  cattle  stealing  is  a  propensity 
connected  with  the  ancient  nomadic  life  of  the 
nation.  A  handsome  horse  or  a  stately  bull  on 
the  great  plain  often  so  powerfully  tempts  the 
Hungarian  peasant,  that  he  can  hardly  resist  the 
desire  to  possess  it. 

About  twenty  years  ago,  Mr.  Borbely,  a 
wealthy  man,  was  noted  in  the  country  for  his 
eccentricities.  He  was  fond  of  meddling  in  the 
county  elections,  and  once  rode  from  the  county 
of  Szabolos,  with  two  hundred  peasant  nobles, 
to  an  -election  in  the  county  of  Beregh,  where 
his  companions  had  the  right  of  suffrage. 
Arrived  at  the  frontiers  of  the  county,  on  the- 
borders  of  the  Tisza,  he  stopped  and  said : 

"  My  noble  brethren  !*    We  are  proceeding 


*  The  peasant  nobles  (freeholders)  are  always  ad- 
dressed by  the  higher  classes  of  society,  with  the  words 
«  Noble  Brethren." 


308  POPULAR   TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

to  a  constitutional  solemnity  in  Beregli ;  we  are 
to  exercise  there  the  greatest  privilege  of  no- 
bility, the  right  to  elect  a  representative  for  the 
Diet,  and  we  must  be  mindful  to  behave  in  a 
manner  becoming  our  station.  "We  shall  see 
there  many  horses,  many  oxen — handsome 
oxen.  Let,  therefore,  every  one  of  us  well 
consult  his  conscience,  and  closely  examine 
whether  he  is  able  to  resist  temptation :  it  is 
yet  time.  Whosoever  does  not  feel  himself 
strong  enough  to  subdue  every  inclination  to 
weakness,  may  step  forth  and  return.  We 
stand  now  on  the  boundary,  but  as  soon  as  we 
have  crossed  the  Tisza  we  are  in  the  neighbour- 
county  ;  and  it  would  be  a  cruel  shame  if  fewer 
of  us  were  to  return  than  have  set  out,  and  if 
several  of  our  number  should  remain  behind  in 
the  county-house,  not  up  stairs  in  the  great 
county-hall  as  guests,  but  below  in  the  gaol, 
shut  up  as  thieves.  Consider,  noble  brethren, 
and  decide." 

It  was  a  picturesque  sight.  Borbely  in  red 
attire,  cut  in  the  peasants7  fashion,  with  the 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  rode  on  a  roan  horse  ; 
a  white  feather  flowed  on  his  broadly  rimmed 
black  felt  hat.  Around  him  were  assembled 


THE   OUTLAWS.  309 

two  hundred  peasants  of  Szabolos,  all  adorned 
with  similar  white  feathers,  their  party  sign  ;  and 
in  their  rear  halted  forty  cars,  from  which  they 
had  descended  to  approach  their  leader  and 
listen  to  his  discourse.  "When  he  had  ended, 
they  thunderingly  cheered  him  ;  but  two  of  them 
left  the  ranks,  and  declared  they  doubted  whe- 
ther they  could  resist  temptation,  and  therefore 
preferred  to  return.  Borbely  loudly  praised 
their  conscientiousness,  gave  each  of  them  ten 
shillings  for  his  journey  back,  and  led  his  other 
virtuous  heroes  over  the  Tisza.  His  speech  had 
the  wished-for  results,  as  his  noble  brethren 
decided  the  election  without  getting  into  any 
collision  with  the  county  justice  of  Beregh. 

Mr.  Borbely  was  a  member  of  an  association 
known  in  Hungary  in  the  beginning  of  this 
century  for  its  bold  eccentricities.  They  called 
themselves  "  Kolompos"  (Bell-weather) ;  their 
grand-master  was  Count  Nicholas  Keglevich. 
He  belonged  to  one  of  the  most  noble  families 
of  the  country,  was  wealthy  and  unmarried. 
Having  previously  been  a  hussar  officer,  he  had 
ever  been  known  for  his  eccentricity.  He 
had  grown  tired  of  life  in  fashionable  society, 
which  at  that  period  had  been  almost  totally 


310  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Germanized ;  lie  withdrew  to  his  own  estates, 
where,  in  common  with  several  others  of  his 
young  friends,  he  used  to  clothe  himself  in 
the  old  Hungarian  costume,  or  in  the  peasants' 
garb,  never  spoke  any  other  language  than 
Hungarian,  and  very  often  lived  amongst  the 
peasantry.  The  whole  association  professed 
the  roughness,'  and  not  seldom  the  rudeness,  of 
the  common  people. 

They  sometimes  traversed  the  streets  at  night, 
with  fiddling  and  trumpeting  gipsy  bands,  and 
thus  disturbed  the  peaceable  burghers.  They 
took  part  in  the  county  elections,  more  for  fun 
than  for  the  sake  of  political  interests.  Their 
reckless  tricks  were  countless ;  and  by  reasonable 
people  they  were  laughed  at,  or  censured  accord- 
ing to  their  deserts. 

But  in  Vienna,  Prince  Metternich  soon 
became  aware  that  this  odd  association  was  the 
beginning  of  a  reaction  against  the  Germaniza- 
tion  of  Hungary ;  and  the  Austrian  Govern- 
ment, therefore,  aimed  at  discrediting  them  still 
more  than  they  did  themselves,  by  the  unpo- 
lished manners  they  ostentatiously  adopted. 

The  Prince  did  not  err.  From  1822  to 
1828,  when  the  Hungarian  counties  resisted 


THE   OUTLAWS.  311 

the  unconstitutional  centralization  measures  at- 
tempted by  the  Emperor  Francis,  the  "  Kolom- 
posok"  joined  the  constitutional  opposition ; 
and  as  they  were  most  popular  with  the  lower 
classes,  they  afforded  no  slight  support  to  the 
national  party. 

To  be  accepted  as  a  member  of  this  associa- 
tion, it  was  necessary  to  testify  that  one  really 
could  live  the  people's  life.  These  proofs  were 
sometimes  of  a  peculiar  kind. 

Mr.  T had,  after  the  death  of  his  father, 

came  into  possession  of  considerable  estates, 
which,  however,  were  partly  mortgaged.  Mr. 

T was  of  a  calculating  turn,  and  thought 

that  the  best  speculation  for  him  would  be  to 
become  Kolompos  for  a  couple  of  years,  to  get 
rid,  in  a  comfortable  way,  of  all  the  expensive 
claims  of  fashionable  circles,  and  thus  be  able  to 
restore  his  fortune  without  being  taxed  as  a 
niggard.  He  therefore  proposed  himself  as  a 
candidate.  Count  Keglevich,  well  aware  of  the 

real  motive  which  urged  Mr.  T to  join  them, 

was  little  inclined  to  admit  him ;  and  therefore 
declared  that  he  could  not  be"  received  if  he  did 
not  prove  his  Spartan  ability,  by  stealing  a  horse 
at  the  next  market  in  Sikso. 


312  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

Strange  as  the  proposal  was,  Mr.  T ac- 
cepted it.  He  went  to  Sikso  in  a  peasant's 
attire,  but  was  little  aware  that  one  of  his  asso- 
ciates, who  was  sent  after  him  to  watch  his 
proceedings,  had  given  information  against  him 
to  all  the  horse-dealers.  He  canght  sight  of  a 
horse,  grazing  on  the  common,  close  to  the 
market-place.  It  seemed  alluringly  posted  for 
his  purpose,  and  he  vaulted  upon  it,  when 
several  peasants  stopped  him,  and  regardless  of 
his  protestations,  supported  by  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  name  and  rank,  and  of  his  perfect 
readiness  to  pay  any  required  price,  thrashed 
him  soundly,  and  yielded  but  reluctantly  to  his 
entreaties  not  to  be  delivered  up  to  the  county 
justice.  Nothing  but  the  interference  of  one  of 
the  Kolompos  spared  him  this  shame,  and  made 
him  aware  that  he  had  been  the  dupe  of  a  pre- 
meditated plan. 

Similar  was  the  fate  of  another  gentleman, 
who  frequently  visited  Count  Keglevich,  and 

was  no  less  parsimonious  than  Mr.  T , 

but  his  niggardliness  was  joined  with  a  most 
unamiable  propensity  to  destroy  the  property  of 
others.  His  greatest  amusement  consisted  in 
teazing  and  damaging  his  friends. 


THE   OUTLAWS.  313 

Once  lie  arrived  in  a  new  Viennese  carriage 
on  the  property  of  Count  Keglevicli.  Every  one 
acquainted  with  the  stingy  taste  of  Mr.  lozsa 
was  astonished  to  see  him  arrive  in  so  elegant 
an  equipage.  Yet  it  was  not  unknown  that  for 
more  than  ten  years  he  had  been  in  search  of  a 
wife  without  ever  finding  a  lady  who,  though 
his  fortune  was  considerable,  would  listen  to  his 
suit.  His  unusual  display  was  now  attributed 
to  some  new  matrimonial  schemes. 

Count  Keglevich  took  a  ride  with  all  the 
guests,  and  ordered  that  in  the  meantime  the 
carriage  of  Mr.  lozsa  should  be  drawn  to  the 
meadow,  and  be  hidden  under  a  hay-rick. 
During  the  ride  the  Count  praised  his  hay,  and 
especially  the  hay-rick  on  the  meadow  oppo- 
site to  his  house,  and  observed,  how  much 
during  all  the  winter  he  should  enjoy  its  aspect, 
so  satisfactory  to  a  landowner's  eye.  He  well 
knew  that  this  was  sufficient  to  create  in  his 
mischievous  friend  the  desire  of  destroying  the 
hay-stack.  When  they  returned  home,  an 
ample  dinner  awaited  the  guests.  Mr.  lozsa, 
who  was  habitually  very  sober,  now  feigned  to 
be  excited  by  the  fiery  wine,  and  invited  the 

gentlemen  by  turns  to  take  many  a  glass  with 

14 


314  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

him.  "When  the  Count  at  the  table  again  men- 
tioned his  hay-rick,  Mr.  lozsa,  under  the  guise 
of  intoxication,  invited  the  company  to  join  him 
in  setting  it  on  fire,  saying,  it  would  be  a 
glorious  firework.  The  Count  strongly  pro- 
tested ;  but  his  guest  seized  a  light,  and  with 
the  other  gentlemen,  who  followed  him  with  a 
loud  laugh,  as  they  had  been  intrusted  by  the 
Count  with  the  real  state  of  matters,  lozsa 
lighted  up  the  hay,  and  resisted  any  attempts  to 
quench  the  flames.  But  what  was  his  terror 
on  the  subsequent  day,  when  his  coachman  an- 
nounced that  the  new  Viennese  carriage  had 
disappeared,  but  that  its  iron  skeleton  remained 
on  the  meadow  amidst  the  ashes  of  the 
hay. 

It  may  be  almost  superfluous  to  mention, 
that  this  reckless  company  often  got  into  trouble 
with  the  police,  and  that  several  of  their  mem- 
bers made  acquaintance  even  with  the  county 
prisons.  Most  of  them,  however,  in  mature 
age  became  very  reasonable  people.  They  took 
a  part  in  politics  :  some  of  them  remained  in  the 
ranks  of  the  opposition,  others  rose  high  in 
Government  office,  and  often  related  to  their 
friends  the  eccentricities  of  their  youth,  and  how 


THE   OUTLAWS.  315 

they  had  studied  the  character  of  the  people 
in  their  own  peculiar  way,  mixing  with  all  orders, 
from  the  Lord-Lieutenant  and  the  County 
Magistrates  down  to  the  company  of  robbers  in 
the  wood. 

The  Hungarian  robber  is  usually  nothing  else 
than  a  homeless  outlaw.  On  some  unfortunate 
occasion,  perhaps,  when  a  quarrel  has  arisen  in 
the  tavern  over  a  bottle  of  wine,  he  has  not 
precisely  enough  estimated  the  force  of  the  blows 
given  by  his  fokos,*  and  has  killed  his  comrade, 
whom  he  intended  merely  to  thrash.  Or  he 
had  escaped  from  prison,  to  which  he  had  been 
sentenced  for  horse-stealing ;  or  he  is  a  deserter, 
who,  when  he  was  sent  to  a  distant  corner  of 
Galicia,  grew  home-sick ;  and  struggling  with 
hardships  and  privations,  forced  his  way  over 
the  mountain-paths  back  to  this  country,  where 
he  must  seek  the  forest,  as  the  village  is  no 
longer  safe  for  him. 

Amongst  the  "  Poor  Lads"  (for  this  is  the 
name  these  homeless  fellows  adopt),  the  de- 

*  The  most  usual  weapon  of  the  Hungarian  peasant 
is  a'  small  brass  axe,  closely  resembling  that  of  the 
antique  "  Celts." 


S16  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

serters  are  predominant  in  number  ;  as,  in  spite 
of  the  warlike  spirit  characteristic  of  the  Hunga- 
rian, he  does  not  like  to  be  a  soldier  in  the 
Austrian  army.  He  knows,  that  according  to 
the  system  of  this  Government,  he  will  be 
compelled  to  leave  his  country,  and  be  sent  to 
Galicia,  Italy,  or  one  of  the  German  provinces, 
where  he  does  not  understand  the  language,  and 
must  live  for  years  amongst  strangers.  I  re- 
member that  once  in  the  forest  we  met  such  a 
deserter.  We  attempted  to  convince  him,  that 
it  would  be  better  to  present  himself  at  the 
next  military  post,  and  to  endure  his  punish- 
ment, than  to  roam  houseless  about,  without 
knowing  where  to  rest  his  head  in  safety ;  but  he 
answered :  "I  was  a  shepherd  from  my  boy- 
hood. If  the  King  commands  me  to  keep  his 
sheep,  never  a  single  one  of  them  shall  be  lost ; 
but  rather  will  I  perish  in  my  own  country, 
than  carry  the  heavy  musket  for  ever  in  distant 
Italy." 

During  the  campaign  of  1814,  the  regiment 
of  Palatine  hussars  covered  the  somewhat 
hurried  retreat  of  the  Emperor  Francis  to 
Lyons,  when  he  had  been  suddenly  cut  off  from 
the  allied  armies.  When  the  monarch  was  in 


THE   OUTLAWS.  317 

safety,  lie  left  to  Colonel  Illesy  the  choice  of  a 
reward  for  the  brave  regiment.  The  officers  all 
thought  their  chief  would  request  a  lasting 
distinction,  such  as  several  other  regiments  had 
been  favoured  with  on  similar  occasions. 
They  had  not  forgotten  that  the  dragoon  regi- 
ment named  Dampierre  had  been  authorized  by 
Ferdinand  II.  to  traverse  the  Court  of  the 
Eesidence  with  drums  beating ;  and  during 
three  successive  days  to  establish  their  recruiting 
table  under  the  windows  of  the  Imperial  palace. 
But  the  old  Hussar  Colonel  cared  little  for  such 
privileges.  He  did  not  claim  any  decoration 
for  his  standard ;  he  well  knew  his  soldiers,  and 
asked  only  the  favour,  that  after  the  conclusion 
of  peace  his  regiment  should  be  quartered  at 
Ketshkemet.  The  officers  were  anything  but 
pleased  at  this  preference  of  Ketshkemet,  as  its 
neighbourhood  is  by  no  means  reckoned  a 
pleasant  station.  The  privates,  however,  were 
delighted  to  get  near  their  families ;  and  as  the 
request  was  granted,  no  further  instance  of 
desertion  occurred. 

The  life  of  such  a  deserter,  when  he  has  become 
a  "  poor  lad,"  is  most  romantic,  but  very  sad. 
He  exists  in  the  woods,  often  in  the  ruins 


318  POPULAK   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

of  some  ancient  castle,  and  not  unfrequently  visits 
the  herdsmen  on  lonely  farms,  and  requires 
them  to  provide  him  with  bread,  wine,  and 
lard.  If  they  give  him  a  part  of  their  stock, 
he  looks  after  their  herds,  and  thus  makes  their 
task  easier.  But  if  they  refuse  his  demand, 
he  occasionally  steals  some  of  their  flock,  not  to 
sell,  but  eat  them. 

Sometimes  when  he  knows  that  no  hajdu 
(county  constable)  is  in  the  neighbourhood,  he 
ventures  on  Sunday  evening  to  a  remote  village, 
and  dances  in  the  tavern  with  the  young  women. 
Of  course  he  takes  care  to  be  well  armed,  and 
even  during  the  dance  keeps  his  hand  on  his 
pistol.  Not  far  from  our  castle  of  Szecseny,  on 
the  ruin  of  Holloko,  there  lived  such  a  poor  lad. 
He  was  a  deserter,  and  not  seldom  visited  our 
herdsmen  on  the  remote  farms.  The  shepherds 
exposed  to  such  calls,  need  to  be  better  paid 
than  others,  as  they  often  fall  into  the  necessity 
of  sharing  their  victuals  with  the  robber,  who 
requests  in  a  manner  which  makes  a  refusal 
dangerous.  The  county  judge,  whom  we  well 
knew,  once  had  an  official  commission  to  a 
Jewish  farmer's,  who  resided  in  the  mountains. 


THE   OUTLAWS.  319 

x 

Our  neighbour,  the  young  Hungarian  poet 
Lisznyai,  accompanied  the  judge  on  this  ex- 
cursion. 

Established  at  the  breakfast-table  of  the 
farmer,  they  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  Janos,  the  outlaw,  who  had 
opened  the  door,  and  stood  on  the  threshold 
with  a  double-barrelled  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  in 
his  belt  a  brace  of  pistols,  and  the  batta,  the 
peculiar  Hungarian  axe. 

"  Sir,"  he  began,  "it  is  long  since  you  sought 
my  retreat.  I  have  therefore  thought  it  my 
duty  now  to  wait  here  upon  you,  as  you  have 
called  upon  my  estates.  Grant  me  permission 
to  '  keep  you  company  for  a  little  while." 
"With  these  words  he  stepped  into  the  room,  left 
the  door  open,  and  posted  himself  with  his 
back  against  the  wall,  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep 
the  door  open  in  sight.  He  then  took  a  cup 
of  coffee  with  the  company,  who,  after  they  had 
recovered  from  their  surprise,  questioned  him 
about  his  mode  of  life.  He  said,  that  he  often 
felt  very  dull,  but  sometimes  found  amusement 
in  the  perusal  of  the  novels  and  poems  which 
the  Jew  bought  for  him  in  Pest.  He  drew 


820  POPULAK    TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

from  his  pocket  a  small  volume  of  poetry ;  it 
chanced  to  be  Lisznyai's,  who  was  of  the  party. 
The  young  poet  was  naturally  highly  gratified 
at  this  adventure,  and  assured  the  nobles  that 
it  gave  him  more  pleasure  to  see  his  songs  in 
the  hands  of  the  "poor  lad,"  than  to  read  them 
most  favourably  reviewed  in  the  columns  of  a 
fashionable  paper.  Janos  also  Was  delighted 
at  the  encounter,  and  said ; 

"  Young  gentleman,  as  you  so  well  know  how 
to  handle  the  pen,  do  me  the  favour  to  write  for 
me  a  petition  to  the  county,  that  the  gentlemen 
would  not  have  me  persecuted  any  longer.  I 
deserted  from  my  regiment  three  times.  The 
last  time,  I  left  my  post  where  I  stood  as  senti- 
nel; and  if  I -am  given  up  to  the  court-martial, 
nothing  awaits  me  but  three  bullets.  I  have 
murdered  no  one,  I  have  robbed  no  one  ;  I  live 
as  a  poor  lad,  and  request  nothing  but  that  I 
may  not  be  hunted  like  a  wild  beast.  Is  it  not 
miserable  enough  to  be  forced  to  live  in  the 
forest,  quite  alone  and  shelterless?  If  a  free 
pardon  is  granted  to  me,  I  will  handle  the  robbers 
in  the  woods  better  than  any  county  hajdu ;  and 
I  will  shoot  down,  wherever  I  find  them,  those 
wretches  who,  some  weeks  ago,  misused  my 


THE   OUTLAWS.  321 

name  when  they  plundered  the  Jewish  pedlar. 
These  are  criminals;  I  am  ashamed  that  they 
"call  themselves  poor  lads." 

The  young  poet  promised  the  petition  for 
him ;  the  outla,w  took  a  courteous  leave,  and  in 
a  few  moments  had  disappeared.  Two  months 
later  he  was  killed  in  a  fray  in  the  village,  by  a 
young  peasant,  to  whose  pretty  bride  he  had 
paid  too  much  attention. 

On  the  great  plain  of  Lower  Hungary  the 
"poor  lads"  are  more  dangerous;  here  they  are 
horse  and  cattle-stealers,  and  often  display 
an  astounding  boldness.  In  any  case  they 
are  most  dangerous  to  society  ;  for  if  one  of 
them  is  a  desperate  character  he  finds  little  dif- 
ficulty in  forming  a  band,  which  easily  grows 
into  a  gang  of  highwaymen.  They  seldom 
carry  on  their  mischief  for  any  long  time,  as 
even  the  extensive  forests  of  the  Bakony,  and 
the  backwoods  in  the  counties  of  Beregh  and 
Marmaros,  grant  them  no  secure  shelter.  They 
seldom  venture  to  attack  travellers  of  higher 
rank ;  their  victims  are  usually  pedlars,  or 
Jewish  innkeepers.  It  was  a  rare  exception, 
when  in  1848  they  dared  to  assault  the 

Metropolitan     of     Karlovitz,  Archbishop  Ver- 
14* 


322  POPULAR  TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

hovacz,  who  on  his  return  home  from  Vienna 
was  suddenly  stopped  in  the  Sclavonian  woods 
by  a  gang  of  robbers.  But  the  priest  did  not 
lose  his  presence  of  mind ;  he  arose  from  the 
seat  of  his  carriage,  showed  the  golden  cross 
Which  adorned  his  breast,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Wretched  men,  do  you  not  see  I  am 
your  Metropolitan  ?  I  curse  you  as  sinners,  who 
act  in  opposition  to  the  commandments  of  our 
Lord.  You  may  kill  me,  but  your  crime  shall 
drive  you  through  the  world,  and  you  shall  be 
accursed  like  Cain,  and  shall  be  fugitives  and 
vagabonds  on  the  earth  like  him." 

When  the  robbers  heard  these  words  they 
fell  on  their  knees  and  entreated : 

"Do  not  curse  us,  Bishop;  do  not  curse  us! 
bless  us,  that  we  may  be  fortunate  upon  earth!" 

The  Metropolitan  replied : 

"I  cannot  bless  you,  but  go  and  sin  no  more, 
and  our  Lord  in  his  grace  will,  perhaps,  forgive 
your  sins.  Eepent  and  abstain  from  your  cri- 
minal deeds  I" 

The  robbers  no  longer  stopped  the  way  of 
the  Archbishop,  and  the  whole  gang  broke  up 
in  a  short  time.  The  curse  of  the  Prelate  had 
frightened  them  into  repentance. 


THE   OUTLAWS.  323 

Prince  Frederic  Schwarzenberg,  the  son  of 
the  celebrated  Field-Marshal  Schwarzenberg, 
used  often  to  relate  his  encounter  with  the 
notorious  robber  Haburak.  The  Prince  once 
accompanied  a  lady  from  Hungary  to  Vienna. 
They  journeyed  on  the  mountain-roads  between 
the  counties  of  Gomor  and  Torna.  Heavy 
showers  had  greatly  damaged  the  roads  ;  evening 
approached ;  the  tired  horses  had  reached  the 
ridge  of  the  woody  height,  but  could  not  be 
urged  on  further ;  and  the  travellers  were  thus 
compelled  to  seek  shelter  for  the  night  in  the 
inn  of  Aggtelek,  a  hiding  place  of  ill  note  for 
robbers.4  The  carriage  halted  before  the  house, 
and  the  servant  inquired  whether  room  could 
be  afforded.  The  publican  replied,  that  there 
was  one  room  for  the  lady,  but  that  the  gentle- 
man could  not  be  accommodated,  the  large 
guest-room  being  over  filled.  After  some 
visible  reluctance,  he  owned  that  the  gang  of 
Haburak  was  drinking  there.  The  lady  became 
terrified,  and  entreated  the  Prince  not  to  remain  ; 
but  it  had  grown  dark,  the  rain  was  pour- 
ing down,  the  horses  were  worn  out,  and  the 
steep  descent  of  the  road  was  so  dangerous  that 
it  was  most  hazardous  to  proceed.  The  Prince 


32-i  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

tried  to  reassure  the  lady  ;  so  she  locked  herself 
up  in  the  room  assigned  to  her.  Her  companion, 
wrapped  in  his  white  officer's  cloak,  under  which 
he  kept  his  pistols  in  readiness,  stepped  into  the 
apartment  where  the  robbers  were  assembled, 
and  sat  down  at  the  table,  facing  the  window, 
whilst  his  servant,  likewise  armed,  kept  watch 
outside  the  house,  close  to  the  window,  on  the 
alert  in  case  his  master  should  want  any  aid. 

The  company  consisted  of  about  ten  or 
twelve  men.  Their  rifles  leaned  against  the 
wall ;  their  axes  lay  upon  the  board,  on  which 
stood  the  wine-jugs.  They  drank,  sang,  and 
talked  over  their  adventures,  and  did  not  take 
any  notice  of  the  newly-arrived  guest.  The 
Prince  mixed  in  their  conversation,  took  wine 
with  them,  and  listened  to  their  conversation 
until  it  had  grown  late.  Suddenly  he  rose, 
called  the  publican,  threw  a  gold  coin  on  the 
table,  and  said :  "  This  is  for  the  wine  these 
good  folks  have  drunk;  they  are  my  guests. 
But  now,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  robbers, 
"it  is  time  to  sleep.  In  the  adjoining  room 
is  a  sick  lady:  the  entertainment  has  lasted 
long  enough ;  I  cannot  allow  any  one  longer 
to  occupy  this  room,  or  disturb  the  lady's  rest 
by  noise." 


THE   OUTLAWS.  325 

At  this  imperative  command  one  of  the 
robbers  jumped  from  his  seat,  and  con- 
temptuously laughing,  cried  out:  "  Does  the 
gentleman  fancy  that  because  he  has  a  carriage 
and  four,  and  plenty  of  money  in  his  pocket, 
he  has  the  right  to  command  us." 

An  uproar  followed.  The  men  vociferated : 
"  We  are  poor  lads,  and  therefore  ive  are 
masters  here.11 

"  We  are  no  timorous  peasants,  who  take  off 
our  hats  to  every  gentleman." 

"  We  have  yet  money  and  credit  enough  to 
swallow  a  draught  when  we  are  thirsty." 

"  We  do  not  accept  any  gift  from  people  who 
fancy  themselves  better  than  we  are." 

"  We  will  not  be  ruled." 

All  this  was  almost  simultaneously  uttered, 
with  a  loud  tumult,  from  all  sides.  All  the 
robbers  had  got  up.  The  Prince  mechanically 
caught  hold  of  his  pistols,  and  threw  off  his 
cloak. 

"I  am  a  master  of  the  craft  in  which  you 
are  but  apprentices,"  he  exclaimed  with  dignity. 
"You  are  robbers;  I  am  a  soldier;  and  fear 
neither  the  mouth  of  a  rifle  nor  the  edge  of  an 
axe." 

During  this  uproar,  a  man  of  middling  height 


326  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

and  strongly  marked  features  had  risen  from 
the  bench  beside  the  stove,  where  he  had  quietly 
sat  during  the  whole  time,  without  partaking  of 
the  wine.  He  now  said  in  a  commanding 
tone: 

"  Silence !" 

The  robbers  grew  speechless  at  this  order, 
and  again  sat  down  to  the  table. 

"  Mr.  Officer,"  continued  the  man,  "  don't 
think  that  you  frighten  us.  I  too  have  been  a 
soldier,  and  have  most  probably  smelt  more 
powder  than  you  ever  did.  I  am  Haburak. 
If  I  desired  to  do  you  any  harm,  a  single 
whistle  would  suffice.  The  table  at  which  you 
have  sat  would  be  overthrown,  the  candles 
extinguished,  and  before  you  were  aware  of  what 
was  going  on,  you  would  be  a  dead  man,  no  less 
than  your  servant  there  at  the  window,  who 
thinks  he  watches  us,  whilst  we  watch  him. 
But  I  saw  you  help  a  lady  out  of  the  carriage, 
and  take  her  to  the  adjoining  room.  We  never 
will  disturb  a  lady's  rest ;  we  war  with  men, 
not  with  women.  For  the  present  we  shall 
leave  this  shelter;  yet  remember,  sir,  that  it  is 
the  first  time  for  a  fortnight  that  these  men  have 
been  under  a  roof,  and  that  the  couch  there  below 


THE   OUTLAWS.  327 

on  the  damp  oak  leaves  is  by  no  means  com- 
fortable. Farewell ! 

"  Friends,  let  us  go,"  he  called  to  his  men. 
They  took  up  their  arms  and  went. 

The  Prince  was  greatly  struck  by  the  whole 
proceeding.  He  did  not  entirely  trust  the 
robber's  words  ;  and  relieving  his  servant,  they 
paced  up  and  down,  thus  keeping  watch  the 
whole  night.  But  no  robber  again  appeared. 

On  the  morrow  the  lady  continued  the 
journey  with  her  companion.  The  weather  had 
cleared  up,  and  only  the  puddles  in  the  lanes 
and  the  drops  of  rain  glistening  on  the  branches 
reminded  them  of  the  clouds  of  the  previous 
day.  After  they  had  ridden  about  an  hour 
they  suddenly  heard  the  discharge  of  a  rifle  close 
to  them  in  the  woods.  Haburak  stepped  forth 
from  the  bushes,  and  bid  the  coachman  "  halt.'7 

The  horses  stopped ;  the  Prince  drew  forth 
his  pistols.  But  Haburak,  without  heeding  his 
threatening  mien,  rode  close  up  to  the  carriage- 
door  and  said : 

"  We  yesterday  sacrificed  our  comfort  that 
the  rest  of  this  lady  should  not  be  disturbed. 
Now  I  will  see  whether  it  was  worth  the 
trouble." 


328  POPULAR  TALES  OF   HUNGARY. 

With  these  words  he  lifted  the  veil,  which 
hung  down  from  the  lady's  bonnet,  and  looked 
for  an  instant  into  her  face.  The  lady  blushed, 
and  the  robber  said : 

"  She  is  really  very  pretty." 

He  turned  round,  plucked  a  wild  rose  from 
a  bush  close  at  hand,  and  offered  it  to  the 
lady  with  these  words  : 

"  Accept  this  rose  kindly  as  a  keepsake  from 
the  poor  robber  Haburak ;  and  if  you  some- 
time hear  that  he  has  been  hanged,  pray  an 
Ave  Maria  for  his  soul." 

The  lady  took  the  rose,  and  the  robber 
vanished. 

Two  years  later  newspapers  related  that  the 
robber  Haburak  had  been  caught ;  that  he  had 
been  tried  at  the  assizes  in  Torna,  convicted  of 
desertion  and  highway  robbery,  and  hanged. 


THE  TRADITION  OP  THE  HUNGAKIAN 
EACE. 

A  NATION  on  whose  cradle  the  bright  sun  of 
modern  history  has  shed  its  brilliant  light,  scarcely 
can  comprehend  the  feeling  of  an  ancient  people 
clinging  to  the  traditions  of  its  race,  which  carry 
it  back  to  by-gone  ages.  These  traditions,  clad 
in  the  charms  of  poetry,  surrounded  by  the  halo 
of  reverence  for  the  ancestors,  and  endeared  by 
every  century  passed  over  them,  become  national 
property ;  and  if  the  criticism  of  science  points  it 
out  that  they  are  inconsistent  with  themselves 
and  with  the  historical  records,  they  yet  remain 
so  cherished  by  the  people,  that  it  never  ex- 
changes them  against  the  most  refined  researches 
of  the  scholar.  Ask  the  Hungarian  peasant  on 
the  plains  of  the  Theiss,  which  is  the  country 


330  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

from  whence  his  forefathers  have  come,  and  he  * 
will  proudly  answer,  it  is  Scythia,  and  his  ances- 
tors are  the  sons  of  the  Greek  Hercules,  and  of 
the  snake-legged  Echidna,  the  mythical  Queen 
of  Northern  Asia.  They  were  the  men  who 
defeated  Cyrus,  the  conqueror  of  Asia,  and  their 
Queen  Thomiris  has  thrown  the  head  of  the 
slain  King  into  a  golden  vase  filled  with  blood, 
that -at  least  after  his  death  he  might  be  satiated 
with  blood.  He  will  tell  you  that  they  likewise 
destroyed  the  army  of  the  great  Alexander  who 
had  overthrown  the  Persian  empire,  when  they 
entrapped  him  into  their  immense  prairies,  where 
they  themselves  disappeared  in  their  native 
marshes  and  forests,  like  the  frogs  and  the  mice. 
He  will  tell  you  that  King  Darius  of  Persia  has 
hidden  his  treasures  in  Hungary,  and  many  a 
barrow  in  the  plains  of  the  Danube  and  the 
Theiss  has  been  opened  by  the  peasants,  in  search 
of  the  treasures  of  the  Persian  King.  But  he 
also  claims  the  Huns  as  his  ancestors ;  these  sons 
of  Gog  and  Magog,  and  of  the  daughters  of 
Scythia,  born  in  the  wilderness  of  Gobi,  from 
whence  they  proceeded  to  settle  in  Hungary,  and 
to  subdue  the  West.  Tradition  says,  that  a 
sword  fell  from  Heaven,  and  it  was  brought  to 


TRADITIONS   OF   THE   HUNGARIANS.        331 

the  court  of  Balamir,  King  of  the  Huns.  Nobody 
could  wield  it,  because  it  was  too  heavy,  until 
the  son  of  the  King,  young  Attila,  grasped  it 
with  one  hand  and  brandished -it,  that  it  shone 
like  the  lightning  of  heaven.  But  before  he  set 
out  to  conquer  the  world,  he  wished  to  give 
stability  to  his  wandering  people,  to  attach  it  to 
the  soil,  that  it  might  not  be  dispersed  like  the 
chaff  by  the  wind.  He  knew  it,  that  it  is  the 
house  and  the  field  which  links  the  man  to  the 
land,  and  transforms  the  roving  nomade  into  a 
citizen  ;  the  fixed  homestead  is  the  first  step  to 
civilization.  On  the  last  hill  which  rises  over 
the  Danube,  he  therefore  marked  the  site  of  the 
town,  which  was  to  become  the  capital  of  his 
nation,  and  he  had  dug  a  ditch,  and  had  raised  a 
wall  to  inclose  the  future  city.  But  his  brother 
Buda,  a  stern  nomade,  would  not  yield  to  the 
decree  of  Attila ;  he  saw  the  liberty  of  his  people 
impaired ;  if  it  was  to  dwell  in  stone  houses 
instead  of  the  movable  tents,  he  did  not  wish 
that  the  pasture-grounds  should  be  curtailed  by 
the  agriculturist's  crop,  and  he  drove  his  cattle 
across  the  ditch,  and  trampled  down  the  wall, 
and  declared,  he  did  not  allow  that  their  conv 
mon  mother,  the  earth,  should  be  torn  up  by  the 


332  POPULAR   TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

iron  plough.  It  was  the  conflict  of  the  shepherd  . 
and  the  agriculturist.  And  Attila  slew  his 
brother,  and  gave  his  name  to  the  new  city,  that 
every  one  might  remember  the  fate  awaiting  him 
who  attempts  to  mar  civilization.  But  even 
Attila,  with  his  iron  hand,  was  unable  to  esta- 
blish the  complete  settlement  of  his  people,  and 
to  change  its  habits.  He  himself  perceived  it, 
that  his  people  would  lose  its  warlike  character 
by  cultivating  the  fields,  and  clinging  too  much 
to  the  soil.  A  wandering  people  on  horseback 
is  always  ready  for  war,  as  we  see  it  unto  this 
day  in  the  deserts  of  Africa  and  Asia,  and 
Attila's  mission  was  to  carry  the  sword  of  Heaven 
through  the  world,  and  to  chastise  the  degraded 
nations  of  the  West.  He  rode  out  with  his 
people  through  the  wilderness  of  Germany  to  the 
rich  cities  of  Gaul  and  of  Italy ;  and  Honoria, 
the  sister  of  the  Eoman  Emperor,  was  smitten 
with  love  when  she  heard  of  his  deeds,  and  she 
sent  him  a  golden  ring  by  a  messenger,  arid 
invited  him  to  the  Eternal  City.  And  he 
advanced  to  Italy  and  defeated  the  armies  of  the 
Emperor,  and  captured  and  ransacked  his  cities, 
and  after  having  won  numberless  treasures,  and 
the  hand  of  the  Princess,  he  returned  again  to 


TRADITIONS   OF    THE   HUNGARIANS.        333 

Hungary.  And  there  lie  resided,  in  winter,  in 
his  stone-palace  at  Buda,  overlooking  the  wide 
valleys  through  which  the  Danube  winds  its 
course,  and  in  summer  he  went  to  the  green 
banks  of  the  Theiss,  and  dwelt  under  his  felt- 
tent  with  the  chiefs  of  his  tribes,  and  the  princes 
and  knights  of  Germany  came  to  him  and  sat  at 
the  end  of  his  table,  and  drank  wine  before  the 
people.  And  whilst  they  tasted  the  wine,  the 
minstrels  sang  the  deeds  of  Attila,  the  Scourge  of 
God,  and  every  man  that  heard  the  sound  of  the 
flutes  and  harps  paid  honour  to  the  King  of 
Kings.  And  when  Attila  thought  that  his 
people  had  rested  enough,  then  he  led  them 
again  to  attack  the  debased  sons  of  Eome,  and 
ransomed  their  cities,  and  carried  the  booty  of 
Italy  and  France  away  to  the  banks  of  the 
Danube  and  the  Theiss.  The  citizens  of 
Aquileja  fled  before  his  host  to  the  isles  in  the 
swamps  of  the  Brenta,  where  the  horsemen  and 
chariots  of  the  King  could  not  reach  them,  and 
there  they  built  Venice,  the  Bride  of  the 
Adriatic. 

At  the  approach  of  Attila,  the  Emperor  fled 
from  Eome,  but  the  people,  headed  by  Leon  the 
Pope,  went  out  to  implore  the  Scourge  of  Heaven 


334  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

not  to  destroy  their  city,  the  wonder  of  the 
world,  and  to  spare  the  life  of  the  trembling 
descendants  of  the  conquerors  of  old.  And 
Attila  yielded  to  their  entreaties,  and  to  the  elo- 
quence of  the  high-priest,  and  he  directed  his 
course  to  the  other  provinces  of  the  empire,  until 
he  became  tired  even  of  his  victories.  Once  only 
his  enemies  resisted  him  valorously  on  the  Cata- 
launian  plains,  and  the  Huns  were  nearly  found 
wanting  in  the  balances  when  they  were  weighed. 
Three  days  they  struggled  from  dawn  to  dusk, 
and  on  the  fourth  day  both  the  armies  retreated. 
But  the  man  who  had  led  the  hosts  of  Eome,  the 
great  Actius,  was  soon  slain  by  the  Emperor, 
who  envied  his  fame,  and  Attila  had  no  rivals 
more  on  earth.  And  he  returned  again  to  the 
plains  of  Hungary,  despising  the  world  he  had 
conquered,  and  the  people  he  had  led  to  con- 
quest, but  which  he  could  not  civilize.  In  his 
old  age  he  again  married,  the  beautiful  German 
Herka,  but  the  next  day  after  the  nuptials  he 
was  found  dead  on  the  bridal  couch.  His  sons 
had  his  corpse  embalmed,  and  laid  into  seven 
coffins  ;  the  first  was  of  oak,  the  second  of  ebony, 
the  third  of  iron,  the  fourth  of  copper,  the  fifth 
of  tin,  the  sixth  of  silver,  the  seventh  of  gold. 


TRADITIONS   OF   THE   HUNGARIANS.        335 

And  the  prisoners  of  war  were  ordered,  to  dig  a 
canal  on  the  Theiss,  to  turn  off  the  waters,  and  in 
the  dry  bed  of  the  river  they  dug  a  deep  pit  and 
buried  the  King,  and  then  they  let  the  waters 
roll  over  the  grave.  And  all  those  were  slain 
who  had  laid  down  the  coffin,  that  none  should 
know  where  rested  the  mighty  Scourge  of  Heaven, 
and  that  the  enemies  might  not  insult  his  corpse. 
For  the  Huns,  who  had  raised  their  hands 
against  every  nation,  knew  that  the  hand  of 
every  nation  would  be  raised  against  them,  and 
they  had  resolved  to  abandon  Buda  and  Hun- 
gary, and  to  return  to  the  wilderness  of  Asia. 
And  so  they  did,  and  the  country  grew  deserted 
once  more. 

This  is  the  tradition  of  the  Huns  ;  its  thread  is 
broken  with  the  death  of  their  great  leader.  It 
is  different  from  all  the  lays  which  the  German 
minstrels  sing  of  King  Etzer,  as  well  as  of  the 
records  of  the  chroniclers  of  Kome  and  Gaul. 
But  the  name  of  the  mighty  King  survived  his 
nation,  and  it  lives  in  the  traditions  of  all 
Teutonic  peoples,  from  Iceland  down  to  the 
Black  Sea. 

Five  centuries  later,  the  Hungarians  reappear 
again  in  a  nobler  and  a  more  glorious  form. 


336  POPULAR   TALES   OF   HUNGARY. 

In  tlie  plains  of  Asia,  between  the  Caspian  Sea 
and  the  Aral  Lake,  we  behold  the  gathering  of 
the  seven  Hungarian  tribes ;  the  spirit  of  wan- 
dering has  seized  upon  them ;  the  memory  of 
Attila  has  revived  again ;  they  yearn  for  his 
realm  in  Europe ;  they  dream  of  the  meadows  on 
the  Theiss,  and  of  the  waters  of  the  Danube. 
And  their  chiefs  assembled,  and  they  made  a 
covenant  to  last  for  ever.  They  resolved  to  elect 
Almos  and  his  progeny  their  chief,  the  Prince 
of  the  Hungarian  nation,  to  lead  them  back  to 
the  old  inheritance  of  Attila,  and  to  be  their  head 
in  the  struggle.  They  resolved  that  whatever 
their  people  might  conquer  should  be  divided 
equally  amongst  the  people.  They  resolved  that 
the  chiefs  of  the  tribes  never  should,  be  excluded 
from  the  councils  of  the  Prince ;  that  whosoever 
should  conspire  against  the  Prince  should  be 
slain ;  and  the  Prince,  if  he  ever  betrayed  the 
people  and  violated  the  covenant,  should  be 
banished  for  ever. 

And  when  they  had  carried  these  resolutions, 
they  slit  their  arms  with  their  daggers  and  let 
flow  their  blood  into  a  golden  tankard,  and 
mixed  it  with  wine,  and  they  all  drank  it  to- 
gether. 


TRADITIONS   OF   THE   HUNGAEIANS.        337 

Almos  was  an  old  and  wise  man,  and  his 
name  means  "  the  dreamer"  His  mother  had 
seen  a  dream  before  he  was  born,  which  made 
her  afraid,  and  the  wise  men  could  make  no 
interpretation  of  it.  She  dreamt  that  she  had 
given  birth  to  an  eagle,  who  flew  far  away, 
and  covered  the  whole  land  with  its  wings. 
And  when  her  son  was  born,  she  called  him 
Almos  "  the  dreamer"  in  remembrance  of  her 
vision ;  and  he  had  already  seen  three-  scores 
of  years  passing  away,  and  the  dream  was  not 
yet  fulfilled,  when  he  was  elected  the  chief  of 
the  seven  wandering  tribes.  And  he  led  his 
people  across  the  prairies,  and  morasses,  and 
forests  of  Kussia,  and  the  Sclavonian  people  of  the 
North  came  to  him,  and  brought  him  gifts  and 
tribute,  silver  and  gold,  and  costly  furs;  and  they 
cut  paths  through  the  woods  for  the  intruders, 
and  built  bridges  for  them  across  the  rivers. 
Once  only  Almos  met  with  sturdy  resistance ; 
the  Hungarians  fought  all  day  until  the  enemy 
retreated,  and  when  the  prisoners  were  brought 
to  the  camp,  it  was  found  out  that  they  too  were 
Hungarians,  the  seven  tribes  of  the  Cumani. 
And  they  made  amity  with  them,  and  the  two 
peoples,  the  branches  of  the  same  tree,  joined  in 
15 


338  POPULAR   TALES  OF    HUNGARY. 

one  nation,  and  'proceeded  further,  until  they 
reached  the  passes  of  the  Carpathian  mountains, 
the  country  which  they  had  sought.  And  they 
took  now  a  rest  of  seven  days,  and  offered  a 
white  horse  as  a  sacrifice  to  their  gods ;  a  thanks- 
giving for  the  happy  accomplishment  of  their 
undertaking.  Almos,  the  dreamer,  then  gave 
up  his  chieftainship  to  his  son  Arpdd,  the  vigor- 
ous hero.  The  task  of  the  wise  man,  to  migrate 
safely  through  Eussia,  was  accomplished ;  Hun- 
gary was  now  to  be  reconquered ;  this  was  the 
task  of  the  warrior. 

Svatopluk,  the  King  of  the  Maharans,  who 
extended  his  sway  from  Moravia  along  the 
Danube,  ruled  at  that  time  over  a  vast  portion 
of  Hungary.  Arpad,  the  son  of  Almos,  sent  an 
embassy  to  the  Slovack  King,  with  the  message, 
that  the  heir  of  Attila  has  come,  and  sends  him 
a  white  horse  with  a  red  bridle,  and  requires  in 
return  a  handful  of  grass  from  the  wold  of  Alpar, 
and  a  leather  bag  full  of  water  of  the  Danube. 
Svatopluk  did  not  know  the  symbolic  meaning 
of  eastern  languages ;  he  did  not  surmise  that  the 
gift  of  the  grass  and  the  water  was  the  symbol 
of  the  surrender  of  the  country ;  he  rejoiced  at 
the  stateliness  of  the  horse  with  the  sprightly  red 


TRADITIONS  OF  THE   HUNGARIAN'S.        339 

bridle,  and  sent  grass  of  Alpar  and  water  of  the 
Danube  by  the  ambassadors  to  Arpad,  and  was 
highly  astonished  to  hear,  shortly  after,  that  the 
hosts  of  the  newly-arrived  people  were  pouring 
forth  from  the  Carpathians,  and  that  already 
they  fed  their  cattle  on  the  wold  of  the  Alpar, 
and  watered  their  horses  on  the  Danube.  Svato- 
pluk  attempted  resistance,  but  was  defeated  and 
fled,  and  Arpad  entered  the  ancient  residence  of 
Attila,  and  remained  with  his  grazing  stud  on 
the  Danube-isle  of  Cseper,  whilst  his  underlings 
conquered  a  portion  of  the  country,  and  another 
devolved  upon  the  young  son  of  the  Prince  by 
his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  the  Wallack 
King.  •  And  when  the  conquest  was  completed, 
he  assembled  the  Hungarians  on  the  wold  of 
Szer,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  people  their 
land  was  divided  amongst  them  all,  and  order 
established  all  over  the  country  ;  and  castles  and 
houses  were  built  in  every  county — the  centres 
of  defence  and  administration. 

But  the  adventurous  spirit  of  the  people, 
roused  by  the  successful  wandering  from  Asia, 
and  by  the  easy  conquest  of  Hungary,  could  not 
subside  without  great  fluctuations.  The  chiefs 
led  their  tribes  to  plunder  into  Germany  and  the 


340  POPULAR  TALES  OF  HUNGARY. 

Greek  Empire.  One  of  them,  Botond,  reached 
Constantinople  with  his  host ;  here  he  slew  the 
giant  who  came  to  fight  him,  with  his  club,  and, 
unable  to  storm  the  walls  of  the  city,  he  broke  its 
gates  with  his  mighty  hand,  and  the  Emperor 
became  frightened,  and  paid  ransom  to  the  bold 
invader.  On  the  other  side,  Sehel  attacked  Ger- 
many, but,  crushed  by  overwhelming  numbers, 
he  fell  in  the  battle  of  Slerseburg,  after  having 
slain  the  chief  of  the  enemy,  who  had  summoned 
him  to  surrender  with  his  bugle.  From  all 
their  invasions  and  excursions,  they  brought  back 
numberless  prisoners,  who  were  to  till  the  ground 
for  their  lords.  'But  these  prisoners  were  Chris- 
tians, and  Christendom  and  the  arts  of  peace  be- 
gan to  spread  amongst  the  people.  Prince  Geiza 
married  a  Christian  princess,  and  had  baptized 
himself,  but  he  did  not  cease  to  bring  his  obla- 
tion likewise  to  the  gods  of  his  people;  and 
when  therefore  admonished  by  the  priests,  he 
said :  "  I  am  rich  enough  to  bring  my  offerings 
to  the  old  gods  and  to  the  priest  of  the  new  God." 
But  his  son  Stephen  became  a  real  Christian  in 
spirit  and  in  life,  and  he  taught  his  people  by  his 
words  and  by  his  example  ;  and  after  three  years 
he  declared  that  whosoever  remained  a  hea- 


TRADITIONS   OF  THE  HUNGARIANS.       341 

then  shall  lose  his  freedom,  and  the  prisoners 
who  are  Christians  shall  be  freed.  And  Kupa, 
the  chief  of  Somogy,  gathered  all  the  heathens 
under  his  standard  in  resistance  to  the  spirit 
of  innovation,  maintaining  the  faith  of  their 
forefathers,  under  whom  they  had  won  their 
country,  and  grown  great  and  happy.  Accord- 
ing to  tradition,  he  rode  the  wonderful  horse, 
Tatos,  endowed  with  reason  and  speech,  which 
sprang  from  mountain  to  mountain,  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  people's  spirit.  King  Stephen  met 
his  enemy  in  open  battle,  and  Kupa  fled  on  his 
horse,  convinced  that  no  one  could  follow  him. 
But  suddenly  Tatos  stopt  and  trembled,  and 
began  to  shed  tears,  and  the  horse  said:  "  Lord, 
we  are  lost !  I  hear  the  clattering  of  the  hoofs 
of  my  younger  brother,  who  is  speedier  than  I 
am.  King  Stephen  has  found  the  means  to 
bridle  him,  and  he  overtakes  us."  And  so  he 
did  ;  the  King  appeared  likewise  carried  by  the 
embodiment  of  the  people's  spirit,  and  of  a 
younger  and  healthier  one,  and  he  slew  the 
heathen  chief. 

With  the  sainted  King  popular  tradition  sub- 
sides again.  The  "  Deeds  of  the  Saints"  contain 
many  a  legendary  account  of  the  miracles  done 


342  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

by  the  great  King  St.  Ladislas,  and  by  the  sweet 
Princesses  St.  Elizabeth  and  St.  Hedwig  of  Hun- 
gary. But  the  people  hardly  recollect  their 
names  ;  all  their  sympathies  are  concentrated  in 
one  person,  a  saint  for  the  people  though  not  for 
the  Church,  King  Matthias.  He  was  Hungarian 
by  birth  and  by  soul,  the  son  of  the  great  Go- 
vernor Hunyady  himself,  the  conqueror  of  the 
Turks  and  of  the  Bohemians — the  King  who 
chastised  the  faithless  Princes  of  Austria,  and 
entered  Yienna  in  triumph.  Yet  it  was  not  his 
glory  which  made  his  memory  so  dear  to  the 
people,  but  his  justice ;  this  truly  royal  virtue, 
the  only  one  which  people  require  from  their 
rulers.  Up  to  the  present  day,  the  Hungarian 
peasant  exclaims  as  often  as  he  thinks  himself 
injured:  "  King  Matthias  is  dead,  and  justice 
with  him."  And  he  likes  also  to  relate  the  feats 
of  the  King  and  of  his  heroes,  Foldy  and  Kinisy, 
both  sons  of  the  people,  strong  and  lion-hearted, 
like  Hercules  the  Greek  and  Eustan  the  Persian. 
He  tells  you  how  the  King  perambulated  the 
country  in  disguise,  and  punished  those  who 
oppressed  the  poor;  how  he  entered  even  the 
beleaguered  city,  and  discovered  the  plans  of  the 
enemies,  sitting  with  them  in  a  tavern  at  the 


TRADITIONS   OF   THE   HUNGARIANS.        343 

very  same  table  on  which,  the  morrow  when  he 
had  left,  they  found  written  the  words — 

"  King  Matthias  has  been  here  at  his  leisure, 
And  has  eaten  six  eggs  with  great  pleasure." 

There  are  yet  various  traditions  alive  amongst 
the  people  of  the  times  of  the  Turkish  wars,  and 
of  the  successful  insurrections  against  the  Em- 
perors, when  they  encroached  upon  the  civil  and 
religious  liberties  of  Hungary,  and  were  com- 
pelled— four  times  in  the  course  of  one  century — 
by  the  sword  of  the  Hungarians,  to  recognise 
their  rights.  But  during  the  last  century,  the 
people  had  no  recollections  either  of  glory  or  of 
freedom,  to  adorn  by  their  imagination  and  to 
transmit  to  their  children.  The  robber,  then, 
became  the  hero,  who  defied  the  laws  deemed 
oppressive  by  the  peasant  But  the  late  struggle 
for  independence,  in  which  the  peasant  was  freed 
from  feudal  bondage,  the  war  in  which  he  fought 
hand  in  hand  with  his  former  Lord,  in  which  he, 
too,  became  conscious  of  his  rights  and  of  the 
power  of  his  nation,  aroused  anew  his  heart  and 
his  mind,  and  the  enthusiasm  kindled  within  his 
breast  cannot  die  away  without  touching  the 
chords  of  poetry  in  his  imagination. 


344  POPULAR  TALES   OF  HUNGARY. 

The  history  of  the  struggle  is  in  itself  so  re- 
markable that  the  mind  can  hardly  invent  scenes 
more  touching,  than  they  happened  in  reality. 
One  of  them  may  illustrate  the  spirit  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  confidence  they  placed  in  the  im- 
mortal Hungarian  chief.  The  incident  was  re- 
lated to  me  by  an  eyewitness.  It  was  at  the 
time  when  Governor  Kossuth  was  with  the  army 
and  the  first  battles  were  won.  One  day  during 
his  meal,  a  non-commissioned  officer  entered  the 
room  with  a  dispatch.  Kossuth  opened  it,  and, 
after  the  perusal,  he  filled  a  glass  with  wine  and 
offered  it  to  the  soldier,  with  these  words : 
"  Countryman,  you  bring  good  news,  take  a  glass 
of  wine  with  me.'7  The  soldier  put  the  glass  on 
the  table  and  said :  "  This  honour  is  too  great 
for  me,  allow  me  to  Ipss  the  hand  of  the  saviour 
of  my  country."  The  Governor  rose  and  em- 
braced him,  replying  :  "  You  do  as  much  as  you 
can  for  our  country,  and  so  do  I ;  we  both 
equally  do  our  duty."  The  soldier  was  deeply 
moved,  tears  flew  down  his  brown  cheeks.  He 
bowed  and  retired.  But  one  of  the  officers  pre- 
sent at  this  scene  said  to  Kossuth :  "  Governor, 
your  kiss  has  signed  the  death-warrant  of  this 
man!"  "How  so?"  asked  the  Governor  asto- 


TRADITIONS   OF   THE   HUNGARIANS.        345 

nished.  "  Because  lie  now  feels  honoured  so 
highly,  that  in  the  next  battle  he  will  seek  dan- 
ger, to  prove  himself  worthy  of  this  distinction." 
On  the  following  day,  the  terrible  battle  of 
Hasegh  was  fought  against  fearful  odds;  the 
batteries  of  the  Austrians  were  carried  by  storm, 
and  the  non-commissioned  officer  was  found  dead 
at  the  mouth  of  an  Austrian  cannon,  which  his 
fellow-soldiers  had  taken  in  the  moment  when  it 
was  discharged, 


MEN  AND  WOMEN 

OF  THE 

EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 

BY   ARSENE    HOUSSAYE. 

With  Beautifully-Engraved  Portraits  of  Louis  XV.  and  Made,  de  Pompadour, 
In  Two  Volumes,  12mo.,  Cloth— PRICE  $2.50. 


CONTE  NTS, 

DUFRESNY.  LOUIS  XV.  CARDINAL  DE  BERNIS. 

FONTENELLE  GREUZE.  CREBILLON  THE  GAY. 

MARIVAUX.  BOUCHER.  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

PIRON.  THE  VANLOOS.  MADE    DE  POMPADOUR. 

THE  ABBE  PREVOST.    LANTARA.  VADE. 

GENTIL-BERNARD.         WATTEAU.  MLLE    CAMARGO. 

FLORIAN.  LA  MOTTE.  MLLE    CLAIRON. 

BOUFFLERS.  DEHLE.  MAD.  DE  LAPOPELINIERE 

DIDEROT.  ABBE  TRUBLET.        SOPHIE  ARNOULD. 

GRETRY.  BUFFON.  CREBILLON  THE  TRAGIC. 

RIVEROL.  DORAT.  MLLE   GUIMARD. 

THREE    PAGES    IN    THE    LIFE    OF    DANCOURT. 
A    PROMENADE    IN    THE    PALAIS-ROYAL. 

LE    CHEVALIER    DE    LA    CLOS. 

"A  series  of  pleasantly  desultory  papers  —  neither  history,  biography* 
criticism,  nor  romance,  but  compounded  of  all  four :  always  lively  and 
graceful,  and  often  sparkling  with  esprit,  that  subtle  essence  which  may  be 
so  much  better  illustrated  than  defined.  M.  Houssaye's  aim  in  these  sketch- 
es—  for  evidently  he  had  an  aim  beyond  the  one  he  alleges  of  pastime  for 
his  leisure  hours  —  seems  to  have  been  to  discourse  of  persons  rather  cele- 
brated than  known,  whose  names  and  works  are  familiar  to  all,  but  with 
whose  characters  and  histories  few  are  much  acquainted.  To  the  mass  of 
readers,  his  book  will  have  the  charm  of  freshness ;  the  student  and  the 
man  of  letters,  who  have  already  drunk  at  the  springs  whence  M.  Houssaye 
has  derived  his  inspiration  and  materials,  will  pardon  any  lack  of  novelty 
for  the  sake  of  the  spirit  and  originality  of  the  treatment." — BLACKWOOD. 

IN  PRESS, 

PHILOSOPHERS  AN1)  ACTRESSES. 

BY  THE   SAME   AUTHOR. 


JUST    PUBLISHED, 

LAYS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  CAVALIERS, 

BY  WILLIAM  E.  AYTOIJN, 

PEOFESSOE  OF  LITEKATURE  AND  BELLES  LETTRES  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  EDINBURGH, 
AND  EDITOR  OF  BLACKWOOD'S  MAGAZINE. 

One  Volume^  12mo.,  Cloth — PRICE  $1. 

"These  strains  belong  to  stirring  and  pathetic  events,  and  until  poetic  descriptions 
of  them  shall  be  disregarded,  we  think  Mr.  Aytoun's  productions  well  calculated  to 
maintain  a  favorite  place  in  public  estimation." — Literary  Gazette. 

"  The  ballads  in  question  are  strongly  tinged  by  deep  national  feeling,  and  remind  the 
reader  of  Macaulay's  '  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome ;'  and,  from  the  more  picturesque  nature 
of  the  subject,  are,  perhaps,  even  still  more  highly  colored.  '  Edinburgh  after  Flod- 
den,'  •  the  Death  of  Montrose,'  and  « the  Battle  of  Kiliecranke,'  are  strains  which  Scotch- 
men will  not  willingly  let  die." — Men  of  the  Time  in  1852. 

"  Choosing  from  the  ample  range  of  Scottish  history,  occasions  which  are  near  and 
dear  to  the  popular  sympathy  of  his  country,  Mr  Aytoun,  confident  of  the  force  of 
strong  convictions  and  a  direct  appeal  to  the  elementary  emotions  of  the  human  heart, 
has  presented  us  eight  noble  lays — clear  in  feeling,  simple  and  direct  in  expression, 
and  happily  varied  and  variable  in  measure,  which  will,  we  are  confident,  outlive  many, 
if  not  all,  ot  his  more  pretentious  and  ornamented  contemporaries." — Literary  World. 


ALSO, 

THE  BOOK  OF  BALLADS. 

EDITED     BY 

BON  GAULTIEE. 

One  Volume,  ~L%mo.,  Cloth — PRICE  T5  cts. 

"Bon  Gaultier  himself,  his  wit,  satire,  and  versification,  remained  a  'Yarrow  un- 
visited.'  The  opuscula  of  that  humorous  writer,  somehow  marvellously  escaping  the 
prehensile  fingers  of  our  publishers,  were  yet  unknown  to  American  readers  ;  though 
an  occasional  whiff  and  stray  aroma  of  the  choice  volume  had  now  and  then  transpired 
through  the  columns  of  a  magazine  or  newspaper. 

"  Bon  Gaultier's  Book  of  Ballads  is  simply  the  wittiest  and  best  thing  of  the  kind  since 
the  Rejected  Addresses.  Its  parodies  of  Lockhart  (in  the  Spanish  Ballads),  of  Tenny- 
son (his  lovely  sing-song  puerilities),  of  Macaulay  (the  sounding  Roman  strain),  of 
Moses  (the  '  puff  poetical'),  are,  with  a  dozen  others,  in  various  ways,  any  of  them 
equal  to  the  famous  Crabbe,  and  Scott,  and  Coleridge  of  the  re-ascending  Drury  Lane." 
Literary  World. 


IN     PRESS, 

Ma non    Lescaut. 

BY 

THE   ABBE   PREVOST. 


OR, 

RECOLLECTIONS  OF  OUR  HOME  IN  THE  WEST, 

BY  ALICE  CAREY. 

Illustrated  by  DARLEY.     One  vol.,  l%mo. 


"  We  do  not  hesitate  to  predict  for  these  sketches  a  wide  popularity. 
They  bear  the  true  stamp  of  genius — simple,  natural,  truthful — and  evince 
a  keen  sense  of  the  humor  and  pathos,  of  the  comedy  and  tragedy,  of  life 
in  the  country.  No  one  who  has  ever  read  it  can  forget  the  sad  and  beau- 
tiful story  of  Mary  Wildermings ;  its  weird  fancy,  tenderness,  and  beauty ; 
its  touching  description  of  the«emotions  of  a  sick  and  suffering  human  spirit, 
and  its  exquisite  rural  pictures.  The  moral  tone  of  Alice  Carey's  writings 
is  unobjectionable  always." — J.  G.  WHITTIER. 

"  Miss  Carey's  experience  has  been  in  the  midst  of  rural  occupations,  in 
the  interior  of  Ohio.  Every  word  here  reflects  this  experience,  in  the  rar- 
est shapes,  and  most  exquisite  hues.  The  opinion  now  appears  to  be  com- 
monly entertained,  that  Alice  Carey  is  decidedly  the  first  of  our  female  au- 
thors ;  an  opinion  which  Fitz-Greene  Halleck,  J.  G.  Whittier,  Dr.  Griswold, 
Wm.  D.  Gallagher,  Bayard  Taylor,  with  many  others,  have  on  various 
occasions  endorsed." — Illustrated  News. 

"  If  we  look  at  the  entire  catalogue  of  female  writers  of  prose  fiction  in 
this  country,  we  shall  find  no  one  who  approaches  Alice  Carey  in  the  best 
characteristics  of  genius.  Like  all  genuine  authors  she  has  peculiarities ; 
her  hand  is  detected  as  unerringly  as  that  of  Poe  or  Hawthorne ;  as  much 
as  they  she  is  apart  from  others  and  above  others ;  and  her  sketches  of 
country  life  must,  we  think,  be  admitted  to  be  superior  even  to  those  delight- 
ful tales  of  Miss  Mitford,  which,  in  a  similar  line,  are  generally  acknowledged 
*o  be  equal  to  anything  done  in  England." — International  Magazine. 

*<  Alice  Carey  has  perhaps  the  strongest  imagination  among  the  women 
of  this  country.  Her  writings  will  live  longer  than  those  of  any  other 
woman  among  us." — American  Whig  Review. 

"  Alice  Carey  has  a  fine,  rich,  and  purely  original  genius.  Her  country 
stories  are  almost  unequaled." — Knickerbocker  Magazine. 

"  Miss  Carey's  sketches  are  remarkably  fresh,  and  exquisite  in  delicacy, 
humor,  and  pathos.  She  is  booked  for  immortality." — Home  Journal. 

"The  Times  speaks  of  Alice  Carey  as  standing  at  the  head  of  the  living 
female  writers  of  America.  We  go  even  farther  in  our  favorable  judgment, 
and  express  the  opinion  that  among  those  living  or  dead,  she  has  had  no 
equal  in  this  country  ;  and  we  know  of  few  in  the  annals  of  English  litera- 
ture who  have  exhibited  superior  gifts  of  real  poetic  genius." — The  (Portland, 
Me.)  Eclectic. 


JUST     PUBLISHED, 

CHARACTERS  IN  THE  GOSPEL 

ILLUSTRATING- 

PHASES  OF  CHARACTER  AT  THE  PRESENT  DAY, 

BY  REV.  E.  H.  CHAPIN. 

One  Volume,  12m0.5  Cloth — PRICE  50  cts. 

SUBJECTS. 

I.  John  the  Baptist ;  the  Reformer. 
H  Herod;  the  Sensualist,     4 

III.  Thomas;  the  Skeptic. 

IV.  Pilate;  the  Man  of  the  World. 

V.  Nicodemus;  the  Seeker  after  Religion. 
VI.  The  Sisters  of  Bethany. 

"TSach  of  the  persons  here  named  is  taken  as  a  representative,  or  type,  of  a  class  still 
found  in  the  world,  whose  characteristics  the  preacher  draws  out  and  illustrates  for  the 
instruction,  reproof,  or  correction  of  his  hearers  and  readers.  The  work  is  done  with 
a  skilful  hand,  and  in  a  style  attractive  and  impressive.  The  book  furnishes  not  only 
agreeable,  but  very  useful  and  instructive  reading." — Boston  Traveller. 

"  The  preacher  has  selected  the  most  striking  traits  in  each  character  delineated,  aa 
typical  of  classes  at  the  present  day.  The  practical  nature  and  perpetual  freshness  of 
the  Gospel  narrative  are  strikingly  exhibited,  in  the  parallels  he  draws  between  the 
times  therein  described  and  our  own." — Journal  of  Commerce. 

"  They  are  forcible  in  style,  vigorous  in  thought,  and  earnest  in  spirit ;  and,  although 
there  is  much  in  it  from  which"  we  would  most  decidedly  dissent,  the  book  may  bo 
profitably  perused  by  every  mind  of  common  discrimination." — Courier  fy  Enquirer. 

"As  we  read  his  pages,  the  reformer,  the  sensualist,  the  skeptic,  the  man  of  the 
world,  the  seeker,  the  sister  of  charity  and  of  faith,  stand  out  from  the  Scriptures,  and 
join  themselves  with  our  own  living  world.  The  volume  is  very  instructive,  eloquent, 
and  quickening,  full  of  thoughts  and  purposes  most  vital  to  our  liberal  views  of 
Christianity.' ' —  Christian  Enquirer. 

"The  author  of  this  work  is  well  known  as  an  eloquent  lecturer,  and  those  who  read 
this  volume  will  not  be  disappointed  in  their  expectations.  It  is  intended  to  help  the 
reader  to  realize  the  vivid  truthfulness  and  the  perpetual  freshness  of  the  gospel  narra- 
tive. While  we  dissent  from  some  of  his  opinions,  we  recommend  it  as  an  able  and 
eloquent  work."— Albany  Express. 

"  Mr.  Chapin  has  an  easy,  graceful  style,  neatly  touching  the  outlines  of  his  pictures, 
and  giving  great  consistency  and  beauty  to  the  whole.  The  reader  will  find  admirable 
descriptions,  some  most  wholesome  lessons,  and  a  fine  spirit.  He  must  not,  however, 
look  for  deeply  spiritual  views,  nor  for  an  estimate  of  men  and  deeds  by  the  orthodox 
standard.  They  are  rhetorically  very  creditable,  and  deal  with  religious  truth  with  an 
earnestness  not  always  to  be  found  in  the  writer's  denomination." — N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

"  Mr.  Chapin  is  a  graphic  painter.  He  writes  in  a  forcible,  bold,  and  fearless  man- 
ner :  and  while  we  can  not  accord  with  all  his  views,  many  suggestive  thoughts  and 
useful  reflections  may  be  derived  from  its  pages.'' — Religious  Herald  (Richmond,  Va.) 

"  These  discourses  have  been  delivered  by  Mr.  Chapin  from  the  pulpit,  and  all  who 
have  listened  to  the  speaker  can  attest  to  the  charm  which  his  eloquence  throws  around 
any  subject  that  he  handles.  These  discourses  teem  with  beautiful  imagery,  and 
abound  with  strong,  pungent  truths,  and  whoever  reads  one  will  read  the  book 
through."—  Olive  Branch  (Boston.) 


NARRATIVES 

OF 

SORCERY   AND   MAGIC; 

FROM  THE  MOST  AUTHENTIC  SOURCES, 

BY  THOMAS  WRIGHT,  A.  M.,  F.  R.  A. 

In  One  Volume,  I2mo.,  Cloth  —  PRICE  $1.25. 


NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 

««  This  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  books  about  witchcraft  that  we  ever  read ; 
and  Mr.  Wright  tells  his  stories  and  conveys  his  information  with  so  much 
spirit  and  good  sense  that  we  are  sorry  he,  has  confined  himself  to  only  one 
department  of  a  subject  which  he  is  very  well  able  to  treat  as  a  whole. 
Mr.  Wright  has  rewritten  the  criminal  annals  of  witchcraft  in  a  style  per- 
fectly free  from  any  important  faults ;  and  he  has  illustrated  his  narrative 
by  rich  collateral  facts  as  could  be  acquired  only  by  long  familiarity  with  a 
peculiar  and  extensive  branch  of  antiquarian  learning.  We  do  not  see 
then  that  tjhe  fortunes  of  witchcraft  have  aught  to  hope  from  any  narrator 
who  may  attempt  to  supersede  him." — Athenaeum. 

"  This  is  a  very  curious  and  highly  interesting  book.  It  contains  a  series 
of  popular  stories  of  sorcery  and  magic  (the  first  chiefly)  and  their  victims, 
from  the  period  of  the  middle  ages  down  to  that  of  the  last  executions  for 
witchcraft  in  England  and  America.  Mr.  Wright  tells  these  stories  admi- 
rably ;  and  without  marring  their  effect  as  illustrations  of  the  respective 
phases  of  corrupt  or  imperfect  civilization  to  which  they  were,  incident,  his 
clear  comments  point  the  truth  or  philosophy  of  the  individual  case  indepen- 
dent of  its  subjection  to  general  causes  or  influences.  The  range  of  infor- 
mation in  the  book  is  extraordinarily  wide,  and  it  is  popularly  set  forth 
throughout,  without  a  touch  of  pedantry  or  a  dull  page." — Examiner. 

"  From  this  wide  field  Mr.  Wright  has  selected  two  parts  for  illustration 
viz.,  sorcery  and  magic  ;  and  must  have  devoted  much  reading  and  research 
to  produce  so  comprehensive  a  view  of  them,  not  only  in  England  ar* 
Scotland,   but   in   France,   Spain,   Italy,   Germany,   Sweden,   and    New 
England." — Literary  Gazette. 


MISS   CHESEBRO'S  NEW  WORK. 

DREAM-LAND  BY  DAYLIGHT; 

A 

PANOKAMA  OF  EOMANOE. 
BY  CAROLINE  CHESEBRO. 

Illustrated  T)y  DARLEY.     One  vol.,  12m0. 


"  These  simple  and  beautifal  stories  are  all  highly  endued  with  an  exquisite 
perception  of  natural  beauty,  with  which  is  combined  an  appreciative  sense  of  its 
relation  to  the  highest  moral  emotions." — Albany  State  Register. 

"  There  is  a  fine  vein  of  pure  and  holy  ihought  pervading  every  tale  in  the  vol- 
ume ;  and  every  lover  of  the  beautiful  and  true  will  feel  while  perusing  it  that 
he  is  conversing  with  a  kindred  spirit.'* — Albany  Evening-  Atlas. 

"  The  journey  ihrough  Dream-Land  will  be  found  full  of  pleasure ;  and  when 
one  returns  from  it,  he  will  have  his  mind  filled  with  good  suggestions  for  practi- 
cal life." — Rochester  Democrat. 

"  The  anticipations  we  have  had  of  this  promised  book  are  more  than  realized. 
It  is  a  collection  of  beautiful  sketches,  in  which  the  cultivated  imagination  of  the 
authoress  has  interwoven  the  visions  of  Dream-Land  with  the  realities  of  life." 

Ontario  Messenger. 

"  The  dedication,  in  its  sweet  and  touching  purity  of  emotion,  is  itself  an  ear- 
nest of  the  many  '  blessed  household  voices'  that  come  up  from  the  heart's  clear 
depth,  throughout  the  book." — Ontario  Repository. 

"  Gladly  do  we  greet  this  floweret  in  the  field  of  our  literature,  for  it  is  fragrant 
with  sweets  and  bright  with  hues  that  mark  it  to  be  of  Heaven's  own  planting." 

Courier  and  Enquirer. 

"  There  is  a  depth  of  sentiment  and  feeling  not  ordinarily  met  with,  and  some 
of  the  noblest  faculties  and  affections  of  man's  nature  are  depicted  and  illustrated 
by  the  skilful  pen  of  the  authoress." — Churchman. 

"  This  collection  of  stories  fully  sustains  her  previous  reputation,  and  also  gives 
ft  brilliant  promise  of  future  eminence  in  this  department  of  literature." 

Tribune. 

"  We  find  in  this  volume  unmistakeable  evidences  of  originality  of  mind,  an 
almost  superfluous  depth  of  reflection  for  the  department  of  composition  to  which 
it  is  devoted,  a  rare  facility  in  seizing  the  multiform  aspects  of  nature,  and  a  still 
rarer  power  of  giving  them  the  form  and  hue  of  imagination,  without  destroying 
their  identity." — Harper's  Magazine. 

"In  all  the  productions  of  Miss  Chesebro's  pen  is  evident  a  delicate  perception 
of  the  relation  of  natural  beauty  to  the  moral  emotions,  and  a  deep  love  of  the  true 
and  the  beautiful  in  art  and  nature." — Day-Book. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


,m'51LB 


' 


,« 


. 


LD 


61 


8    1963 


REC'D  LD 

MAR  11' 65 -9PM 

f:*\?WjQ  5  J  ' 

REC'D  LD 


LD  21-95m-ll,'50(2877sl6)476 


MAY  1 2  '65  -4  Pt 


20367 


M30O897 


pg 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


iijiii     y      !       lii  »  i     f  i  i!i     iii   i  "  i 

im'-mimmmimmimm 

^^iS^^^i^WK^^^^MlM 


